


Cort'esa

by deekaypea



Series: Cort'esa [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Multi, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Romance, Smut, Spies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-03 17:13:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 29
Words: 94,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17881895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deekaypea/pseuds/deekaypea
Summary: Reina is an exile from her homeland, Vermahna, an isolated kingdom across the Volca sea. A trained Cort'esa, master of entertainment and relaxation of all kinds, she has not been home for thirteen years, instead seeking refuge in the salons and courts of Orlais. But Reina's past is catching up with her, pushing her towards the one place where she may finally be safe; the Inquisition. All she wants to do is help in the ways she knows how; singing, dancing, engaging in more physical relaxation and healing. This proves difficult when a certain Commander steals her heart. Even more so when, against all odds, her past continues to defy distance and seek her out.





	1. A Cort'esa in Skyhold

I stared up at the hold, the shadow it cast chilling me in the mountain air. The walk up had been brisk enough, but now that the great stone building blocked the sun, I shivered, pulling the wolf-fur mantle closer to myself. 

“Wait here, please.” I spoke over my shoulder to my guard and friend, Derek. He nodded and returned back down the stairs to the small courtyard we had passed through. There were a handful of people milling around, snippets of conversation and distant noises drifting through the keep. We’d been stopped at the main gate to Skyhold upon entrance, and I’d had to present my letter to confirm I was expected. The guard had nodded, giving me a peculiar look as I took the letter back. He’d clearly been able to read the letter, so I was not surprised at his look. I was unique in Fereldan, to say the least. In Orlais, my kind was at least known, if only through rumour.

I strode through the great doors, into a dimly lit hall. There were more people here, and a throne visible at the far end of the room, beneath a great window. To my right stood a grand fireplace, giving off some warmth. Deciding I would warm myself after my meeting, I scanned the small clusters of people to see if anyone struck me as one who might send me in the right direction. Fortunately, they found me first.

“You lost?” A voice called from beside the fire. I turned to see a dwarf leaning casually against the brick beside the fire, the flickering light casting a glow on his golden hair and his dominant crooked nose. He had a smile and struck me as someone who was rarely without one. The way he held himself was with confidence; he took up more room than his small stature should allow, and his shirt was gaping to show a broad chest dusted with hair. I could practically taste his charisma. I offered him a smile in return, stepping forward.

“Yes, actually. I’m looking for Sister Leliana. She is expecting me.” This seemed to surprise him.

“Oh? You look more like an Orlesian than a spy. But,” he shook his head, “I’ve been told recently I don’t actually know much about spies.” This made me laugh.

“I am neither, or both, depending how you look at it. However, the hat might incline one to think the first option.” I gestured to the swaths of fabric around my head, hiding my hair, topped with a foppish hat. I offered a delicate hand, which he took in his. “Cort’esa Reina, Ser…?”

“Varric Tethras, no Ser.” He made a face and took his hand back. “Just Varric. Is Cort’esa a where or…?”

“It’s not a where, it’s a title. Like Ser.” I smiled. “But it is a title from my homeland.”

“You’re a dignitary then?” 

I shook my head. “No. I am a…there is no word in your tongue. I provide entertainment and pleasure.”

"Entertainment? We already have bards and musicians. And then _I_ provide humour, of course." His eyes glittered; I had a suspicion he as least suspected what I meant by ' _pleasure._ '

"I do all of that and more. I am learned in the ways of the body. I know how to relax, charm, excite."

“You’re a prostitute?” This seemed to amuse him. I smiled, shaking my head.

“No, but your guess is as close as you might come.” I’m sure he’d learn soon enough, so I pointedly looked around. “Sister Leliana?” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

“Go through this door, then up the stairs into the tower. She’s the highest level up.” He still seemed amused, but I thanked him and moved through the door he had indicated. This took me into a large, round room which, upon looking up, had to be the tower Varric had mentioned. I heard crows above me and smiled. At least I was heading in the right direction. 

I cast my eyes down and looked for the stairs, seeing instead two different doors set into the walls of the round room. A table was in the middle, and some scaffolding stood to my right. I hadn’t noticed when I’d entered, but an elf was standing by a table by the door to my right. He had turned when I had entered and was looking at me a somber expression on his long face. He was bald, and wearing plain clothes, but despite that he seemed to exude a regal air. Ancient; that was the feeling I got from him.

“May I help you?” He asked. I smiled and gestured up.

“I am seeking Sister Leliana. I was told she is above.”

He gestured to the door on my left. “If you follow those stairs up, and then past the library, you shall find her.”

“Thank you.” I inclined my head and he turned back to his work, which appeared to be mixing paint. I followed his directions up the winding stairs to the first level and found myself surrounded by books. I smiled to myself, thrilled at the thought of so much potential reading. Then I straightened and sobered. I was here for a job, not to enjoy myself. I spotted the next staircase around the room and followed it upward, finding myself in a more brightly lit room. The top of the tower was rather bare, but I spotted she who must be Leliana, standing by a window with a table. Her hood was drawn, but red hair peeked out from beneath as she bent to her work.

I approached and my movement must have caught her eye, for she lifted her head to me.

“You must be Cort'esa Reina.” I nodded, standing at the desk. Her voice was not quite what I expected; she had the beautiful melody of the Orlesian accent, but there was a crisp brusqueness underlying her words, a clipped control. “I watched you arrive. I must admit, I was pleased—and surprised—when you accepted my offer to join the Inquisition. I know it is not what you are used to.”

I smiled. “No, admittedly it is not. But it is such a unique opportunity that I had to accept. Besides, I was growing tired of Orlais. The Game reminds me of home but, well, it gets old.”

She nodded. “Understandable. Speaking of home, have you been back since the Uprising?” 

I shook my head at her question. “No. Considering the political state, I have no interest or invitation to return.”

“ I cannot say you may be in less danger here than you were there.” She moved a paper on her desk, scanning it. 

I shrugged a mantle-clad shoulder. “Dying free is better than dying as a prisoner in my own land.”

She gave a dry chuckle. “True. Now,” she shifted topics, looking outside for a moment, “I was hoping to introduce you to the Inquisitor and the other advisers so that you are known to them. You’ve arrived at a perfect time, as the Inquisitor has called a War Council to start in just a moment.” She came around the desk. “Do you have a moment to come meet everyone?”

I smiled, turning. “My time now belongs to the Inquisition. I am yours to command.”

She laughed, a small, throaty chuckle, beckoning me to follow. “Lady Montilyet told me to expect discipline but you are still not what I expected.”

“I rarely am.”

With that, I followed her back the way I had come into the round chamber, back into the hall where I had met Varric and across the room at an angle to yet another door. Leliana pushed it open and I followed into a large, comfortable looking room with its own fireplace, bookshelves and a large empty desk.

“They will be waiting for me.” Leliana murmured, more to herself than me, moving through the room and entering the door on the far side. We entered a corridor with a great arching ceiling which had clearly seen some siege; there were bricks scattered on the floor, having been knocked down from the wall. I felt dwarfed in the corridor, small and insignificant. “That is still under repair.” Leliana explained offhandedly. “It was here before we arrived.” I did not feel like I was expected to answer, so I remained silent, following her through the small wicket door set in the great double doors at the end of the corridor. Upon our entrance, curious eyes were immediately drawn to me. 

“Who is this, Leliana?” a dark-haired woman with scars marring her otherwise beautiful complexion spoke first. She shared Leliana’s accent. The others around the table looked ready to ask the same question.

“This is Cort'esa Reina. I have hired her to join the Inquisition, at the request of Lady Montilyet,” she nodded to a darker skinned woman, dressed in a glittering gold and purple costume, very Orlesian in its use of ruffles, "and with the reference of Vivienne."

“She is a spy?” This came from a blond man, nearly lost in a dark mantle. His face lacked any expression, kept neutral at Leliana’s introduction, though there was a power that exuded from him. In fact, everyone in this room seemed to fill it with the brim with regality, yet with no tension between them. They were all powerful equals.

“Not really. It is better if she explains herself.” Leliana gestured me forward, and I stepped up to the table; a large wooden ordeal covered with maps and small figurines. A war map. I ignored it; it was not the reason I was here.

“As Leliana said, she hired me to provide entertainment and pleasure to Inquisition members in Skyhold. I have heard that, since coming here, morale has raised considerably, but you are still far from any main cities. People need distraction.”

“We already have a minstrel.” The last member of the council, the Inquisitor, spoke. The Inquisitor’s voice was neither angry nor tired, simply gauging the situation.

“I am more than a minstrel.”

“Wait, you said ‘pleasure?’” The blond man turned to Leliana. “Leliana, she’s not a _prostitute_?”

“I am _not_ just a prostitute.” I replied, not giving Leliana the chance to speak on my behalf. “I am Cort’esa. From a young age I have been trained; learning history, geography, culture, dance, music, singing, riding, and anatomy. And not simply for sexual pleasure, but for other kinds of physical healing and relaxation. I know etiquette and diplomacy and, yes, I have practiced what some might call spy-craft.” I spoke steadily, meeting the eyes of everyone in the room.

“What do we need a highly skilled prostitute for?” the blond man spoke again, looking past me and staring at Leliana. She stepped forward.

“Well, as she said so succinctly, she does more than provide distraction and amusement. She has a great deal of other skills that can allow her to aid people to relax. And we need more than just a single minstrel in a single tavern to provide entertainment. She also has some healing skill.” She looked to me to confirm, and I nodded.

“Leliana is correct; due to my study of different anatomies, I know how to help ease tension and reduce harm. Healers help with obvious ills; broken bones and wounds. I can help with things like strain and, in some cases, aiding in the recovery of those who have been healed.”

“I think she sounds useful.” The dark-haired woman spoke. “Although I must ask…was the Inquisitor made aware of this acquisition?” 

“I mentioned it to the Inquisitor.” Leliana inclined her head to the figure in question, who looked me over.

“I see no harm I her staying. Leliana trusts her and,” the Inquisitor smiled, though it was calculating and held the slightest menace, “if she does betray us, Leliana would probably be the first to know. Such a betrayal would not go unpunished.”

“My loyalty is to the Inquisition.” I met the Inquisitor’s eyes. “I have no allegiance anywhere else.”

“Really? You are not Orlesian, nor do you sound Fereldan.” The man spoke again. “Which begs the question; where _do_ you come from?”

“I come from Vermahna, far from here, across the Volca Sea in Anderfels. Not many here have heard of it. We used to do trade with the people of Laysh but that stopped many, many years ago. I came to Orlais as a young adult with my mother. Unfortunately, she died a few years ago. I took up her place as Cort’esa, a visiting noble in the Orlesian courts, and Leliana tracked me down a few weeks ago, thanks to contacts provided by Lady Montilyet.”

“Why do you not return home?” The Inquisitor spoke.

“When my mother and I left, there was a great deal of political upheaval. The King was overthrown, along with our Council, which my mother was a part of, chosen by the people. Because of this, we were exiled, outspoken as we had been against the usurper. I can never return home, so long as he is in power.” I explained with as much detached coolness as possible, but my last words sounded wistful, even to me. There were, of course, details I left out, but they were unimportant, unnecessary. 

“That is terrible.” Lady Montilyet frowned, lowering her clipboard. She had heard some of my story, but my mother and I had kept most of our personal lives personal. It was safer that way in Orlais.

“I am enjoying my time learning more about Thedas and its people.”

“Can we agree that she may stay now?” Leliana spoke up. “I’d like to get started on more important matters as soon as we settle the question of whether or not we could do with someone as skilled as the Cort’esa.”

“I already said I think she should stay.” The Inquisitor was the first to speak. 

“Well, we can’t really disagree with the Inquisitor, can we?” The blond man spoke to the short-haired woman, who was scowling. Or, that might have been her resting face, I was not yet entirely certain.

“Good.” Leliana turned to me. “If you go to the tavern, I shall have someone sent to collect you and show you to a room. Your companion, where should he be put?”

“My bodyguard is a skilled warrior. He may be put in the soldier’s barracks and if ever he is needed, he will fight for the Inquisition. Thank you.” I nodded to everyone around the room, and lastly, went into a deeper bow to the Inquisitor. I received a curt nod in return from everyone gathered, and I left the room, leaving them to their own plans.

My life here was about to begin.


	2. First Impressions

The tavern was open and warm and comforting, dimly lit and only starting to fill with people. It made me feel strangely out of my element. It had been a long time since I had been in a tavern such as this. The salons of Orlais were nothing like the drinking halls of…well, anywhere else. It was going to be a lot to adjust to. But that was what I was best at; adapting and blending in. Making myself—and those around me—comfortable. It was something I prided myself on, the reason I had found so much success away from Vermahna. It helped that I had had a great teacher.

I decided I would do well with a drink. It had been a long journey and I was quite certain I had missed supper. I’d have to find out when meals were served and where I might be able to get food. Until then, the Herald’s Rest—that was what Leliana had called it—would be the best place to wait, as requested, and also to be seen.

I approached the barkeep, a dwarf with facial tattoos, and asked for a mead, which was promptly fetched and brought to me. Mead was heartier than what I usually drank, but I needed something a bit filling, if I was not to eat until later.

I sought out a table at which to sit while I waited for Leliana’s attendant to find me.

“Krem, don’t be rude; get off your chair and offer it to the lady!” A voice boomed, startling me as I wandered, lost in thought. I looked sharply to where the voice had come from. I must have been tired, for I had not noticed the enormous Qunari when I’d entered the tavern, and he was _noticeable._

A human, grinning and shaking his head, gestured to a seat for me. I took it with a grateful smile. He was clearly Tevinter; his dark skin and hair gave away his heritage. “I don’t know why you don’t get up, you great ass. You’re the one who just sits and drinks all day.” Laughter met his comment, and the Qunari downed his drink.

“Ah, but you are younger and therefore more agile.” He retorted. “Besides, I get out there with the Inquisitor, which is action enough. I deserve a break when I get back, without being questioned by my own men!” He was clearly teasing; the levity of his tone was clear. He turned his eye on me and leaned forward in his chair. “Besides, she looks like she will not be staying long; she is still dressed for the road.”

I lifted a hand to my hat, a parting gift from a friend in Orlais. I had left almost everything Orlesian behind, save the hat, for it kept my head warm on the journey here.

“I am staying longer than the hat might suggest.” I said, placing my mead on the table, and taking off the hat, before unwinding the long lengths of fabric that accompanied the Orlesian accessory. “I actually forgot I was wearing this. It will be something to get used to, not wearing Orlesian robes anymore.”

The Qunari leaned back as the last of the fabric fell away, revealing my hair beneath. The curious look on his face was unmistakeable, even with only one eye. I did not want to let my hair down; the pins holding my waist-length locks in place were a chore to put back in and my hair was cumbersome. 

“What did you do to your hair? Is that the Orlesian style, now?” one of the Qunari’s companions asked.

“Oh, this? It’s just held up by pins, nothing fancy—” 

The Qunari laughed. “I think he means the colour, girl.”

Of course, I had _known_ he meant the colour. My colouring was something of a peculiarity, which was part of what made me so unique in this land.

“This is my true hair colour. Where I come from, it is stranger to see brown or blonde than it is to see shades of green or blue or,” I touched my lilac locks, “purple.”

“It looks so soft.” Krem, the one who had given up his seat, remarked with an impressed nod. I smiled.

“It is. Next time it is down, you should feel how soft it is.” I invited. He laughed.

“Be careful, Krem, or Maryden might get jealous.” The Qunari teased, and Krem rolled his eyes. 

“Shall I get you another drink, Bull? Makes you a lot more fun to be around.” Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed the emptied mug and disappeared to the bar, smiling and shaking his head. The Qunari turned on me.

“Now, who are you? You aren’t Orlesian and I’ve never seen someone from Fereldan with purple hair. Actually, I’ve never seen anyone with purple hair. Not even an elf.”

“I am from a land far from here.” I said simply. “My name is Reina. I spent the past decade in Orlais but…well, I’m glad to be free from there, in all honesty.”

“The Iron Bull.” The Qunari offered a hand. “Leader of the Chargers, this lot of miscreants and vagabonds.” He gestured to those around us and introduced us. “Now, Reina, what brings you all the way from Orlais to Skyhold? Business or pleasure?”

“My business is pleasure.” I replied, my drink back in my hand.

“Oh? Sounds intriguing.” 

“I do a little bit of everything. I help injured soldiers recover, I dance, I sing—though not so wonderfully as the bard—” I gestured to the woman in question, whom I had spotted upon entrance, “I am also familiar with all kinds of anatomies, to help with physical ailments and relaxation.”

“Even _more_ intriguing.” The Iron Bull leaned forward. “Though I can’t imagine you have had much experience with Qunari?”

“No, I have not. But,” I met his eyes over the edge of my mug, “I’d love to learn.”

The Iron Bull laughed, leaning back in his chair. “I like you.” He took his mug from Krem, who had just returned, and lifted it to me. I knocked my mug against his, then took a deep draught, before a hand tapped me on the shoulder.

“Lady Cort’esa?” I turned to find a young woman smiling tentatively at me. “Your room is ready.”

“Thank you, and please, don’t call me Lady. It’s either Reina or Cort’esa.”

“Of course, ma’am.” The girl inclined her head. “If you would follow me?” She turned and I stood.

“Well, Krem, thank you for the chair. And the Iron Bull…I can’t wait to learn more about Qunari bodies.” I drained my drink and left it on the table, following the young woman out, to the sound of a low whistle behind me.

“She’s definitely not from around here.” Krem said as I departed the tavern, back into the fresh outdoors.


	3. Settling in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Chapters will begin to get longer, I started off slow with this work.  
> *Comments are welcome and appreciated!!!! :)

My room was nice, and larger than I had been anticipating. I had a large dresser by the door, as well as a chair and table and fireplace. A four-poster bed dominated the room and looked like it had recently been repaired. There was also a wardrobe in the far corner; my baggage was already sitting by the large wooden furnishing. Had Derek brought them up? The room itself was a bit tucked away, but that seemed unavoidable; most other rooms were full at this point. I didn’t mind it, so long as my space was accessible to possible patrons.

The girl that Leliana had sent had taken me around the side of the main keep, to a set of stairs by the stables that led me up to a back rampart. Three rooms were there, and I was led to the centre one. I thanked the girl and sent her on her way. Once I was settled in, I decided I should go find my companion to see where he was. Likely, he’d be in the soldier’s barracks. Unlike me, he did not have the luxury of needing a personal room. Which, knowing him, would not be an issue; Derek was a social creature and while he did not contribute much to conversation, he enjoyed other people’s energy.

I decided first to change out of my travelling clothes and put my things away. I’d have to also find somewhere to clean my travelling garments. The fur mantle was still clean, and warm, so I left it draped over one of the chairs in the room, before stripping out of my dress and draping it over the other chair. I fetched my travel bags by the wardrobe and reached inside for my clothes, planning to hang them. The room was quite warm—a fire had been lit in the hearth in preparation of my arrival—so I was comfortable in my thin shift as I began making the room a home for myself.

I was just about finished with my clothes and things when a knock sounded at the door. I figured it must be Derek or another attendant, to check to see if I needed anything. I pulled a thin blanket around my shoulders, so as not to appear completely indecent, and went to the door.

“Derek, I—” I halted. It wasn’t Derek, it was the blond man from the council. He was standing, hands clasped, looking a bit blown away at my appearance. I remembered he had not yet seen my hair, which explained the double-take. “My apologies, I was not expecting anyone so soon.” I remained in the doorway, not wanting to allow anyone into my room until I had finished preparing it, making it clean and tidy. Which looked like it was alright, by the blond man’s obvious nervousness. He looked uncomfortable to be here.

“Oh, no, I am sorry.” He noticed my state of clothes, or lack thereof. “Oh! I can come back later—” I noticed a sweet colouring to his cheeks. _Too sweet._

“That is perfectly alright, I was just putting my things away.” I smiled softly, not wanting to scare him off, and pulled my blanket closer around my shoulders. The man cleared his throat.

“I wasn’t even sure…I wanted to say…I am Commander Cullen.” He thrust a hand in front of him. “I feel I treated you unfairly, earlier. I am not opposed to you being here, I just—”

“I made you uncomfortable.” I said with a smile. “Understandable. You did not expect a _Cort’esa_ to end up in Skyhold.” I smiled, hesitating on the word. He’d been the one to call me a prostitute—which wasn’t really insulting, just somewhat incorrect—and I felt the need to use my title again. It may or may not help him warm to me, or at least accept me.

“Yes, well…” He cleared his throat. “I just spent a few moments in the library—at Leliana’s suggestion—reading about your land. There was an entire chapter dedicated to Cort’esans and it was…interesting.” He averted his gaze. “Anyways, I just wanted to apologise. I should have been more welcoming. You are a long way from home. I can’t imagine it’s easy.”

“Thank you, Commander Cullen.” I smiled. “And the apology was unnecessary, though not unwelcome.”

“Of course.” He breathed a sigh. “I shall leave you then. If you should need anything, please, let me know.” He turned and I made to close the door but stopped when he turned back. “I have to ask. Your hair, is it—”

“Real.” I laughed. “Natural. You can touch it and see.” By now I had shaken out all the pins, so my hair fell in loose waves to my waist.

Cullen lifted a hand, then let it drop. “A later time.” Then he turned on his heel and disappeared. I let the door close, smiling to myself. He was much too tense and formal. If I wanted to help him relax—and that was my job, after all—I’d have to let him come to me.

I finished unpacking then put my chosen dress on; it was a deep teal, closer to a green than blue, with silver and gold embroidery at the collar and hems. It was comfortable and simple, not one of the extravagant costumes I had worn in Orlais. Once dressed, I debated braiding my hair, and decided to leave it down. I was here for a reason, and that reason was not yet widely known. The more I was seen, the more I might be talked about and sought out. Which meant the more my skills would be spoken of.

I left the confines of my room, pulling the fur mantle over my shoulders again. This time, Derek found me as I was coming down the stairs.

“Reina.” He bowed. “You found your room alright?”

“Yes, Derek, thank you.” He took my hand and guided me down the last of the stairs.

“Are you hungry? I have found the kitchens and they have agreed to give us a small meal, since we missed dinner.”

“Derek, you always know how to take care of me.” I smiled, giving his hand a squeeze before dropping it as we reached the bottom of the stairs. 

Derek had been my mother’s best friend and had orchestrated our escape from Vermahna to Orlais. He was something like an uncle to me and looked after me greatly. As was demonstrated by his seeking me out and taking me to get a bite to eat. He’d been the only constant adult-male figure in my life for the past thirteen years. I loved him dearly.

The meal was small, as he had foretold; some simple broth and bread, but at least it was warm. I ate greedily, having not had warm food for a few days, since the last inn we had stopped at. And while the mead at the Herald’s Rest had been somewhat filling, it wasn’t the same as actual _food._

Once finished, we made our way back to the surface, and I was surprised to find it darkening, the sun casting long shadows over the peaks around us, glinting off the snow in the distance. The mountains were beautiful. I decided that the view made the harsher climate a bit more tolerable. I marked that as one other thing I needed to adapt to; the climate was less temperate than what I was used to, another adjustment for me to make.

“I asked that a bath be drawn for you.” Derek interrupted my admiration of the distant peaks with his words.

I grinned at him. “A bath would be incredible.”

“Also, I suggest you post a sign or something outside your door, dictating hours and services.” Derek added. “Word of mouth can only do so much.” 

“True.” We carried on in silence as he escorted me back to my room, where the young woman from before was coming out.

“Oh! La—Cort’esa.” She corrected herself. “Your bath is prepared.”

“Thank you…?” I realised I had never asked for her name. “My sincerest apologies, I did not ask who you are.”

“Me? I’m Darlah, Cort’esa.” She smiled. “If you need anything else, ma’am, just ask for me. Sister Leliana has instructed that you receive whatever you need, within reason.”

“Lovely, thank you most graciously Darlah.” I turned to Derek. “You will find me tomorrow, yes?” 

“Of course.” He bowed then turned and went back the way he had come. I turned back to Darlah.

“I should be fine for the rest of the evening, Darlah, though I may enjoy a tour tomorrow, if it is not too much to ask?”

“Of course not, Cort’esa. No place is off limits, save the War Council room and the Inquisitor’s private chambers—unless you are invited.”

“I will make sure to only keep to public areas, Darlah. Thank you.” I opened my door and entered. “Goodnight.”

“Ma’am.” She bowed, and I closed the door, turning into my room to see the bath in question, steam rising from the surface. Soap and towels had been placed on the chair and my dirty clothes were nowhere to be seen. I smiled to myself; Darlah was quick and efficient. I’d have to thank her and tell her I could do my own laundry, I just needed to know where to do so.

I stripped down completely this time, and approached the bath, settling into the hot water with a moan of pleasure. The voyage from Orlais to Skyhold was long and it felt nice to finally just sit and soak and relax. Tomorrow, it would be time to get to work but tonight, tonight was my own…


	4. A Drinking Game

I was settling in nicely.

It had only been a couple days, but already my abilities--as so much more than a ‘common whore’--were being shared around Skyhold.

Of course, sex _was_ a part of my training, but I was not surprised at how many others wanted something else entirely. There was a man who simply wanted to brush my hair, saying that it reminded him of his daughter’s hair, his daughter that had died a few years ago due to disease. There was a woman who enjoyed listening to me sing while she simply sat and listened. There was a couple who had come to Skyhold to join the Inquisition together and sought my help with their relationship, with me acting as a sort of mediator. Of course, that was not the initial plan; they’d come to me seeking sexual expertise and advice, but I was excellent at reading people and managed to steer them into another line of dialect. Not that I didn’t mind sharing my romantic expertise, but I knew that it was not what they wanted. Not truly. And that was my greatest skill; reading people, helping people find what they needed more so than what they wanted. I was intuitive. I was respected. It was nice.

So I was not surprised when, upon entering the tavern one evening, a blonde elf in vibrant clothes approached. I had not yet seen her, but I suspected she was likely one of the Inquisitor’s inner circle, one of the ones who’d been away with the Inquisitor’s party, which had left only a day after my arrival. 

I was sitting with Derek, my near-constant companion, when she’d approached, rather out of the blue, all smiles. She sat herself down and immediately started speaking, her accent thick and Fereldan.

“So you’re the fancy prossy, yea?” Derek, mid-sip, sputtered, dribbling his drink down the side of the cup as he held back a laugh. The elf thumped him on the back, taking her eyes off me for only a moment to do so.

“Um...I’m not just a prostitute.” I said mildly, used to the conversation. This had not been the first conversation of my position, but the first one where the subject was broached so coarsely.

“It’s all good, innit? Inquisition people need something distracting, yeah, something more than just the usual song and dance. And here you come like a shiny new dagger.”

“Normally people say ‘shiny new coin.’” I pointed out, entertained by this incredibly blunt, freckled elf. She snorted.

“Yeah, but daggers can be a lot more fun. The stabby-stabby kind of fun. The _good_ kind of fun.”

“True...but in order to get a dagger, you need coin, do you not?” _What an odd conversation this was turning into,_ I thought, my smile growing.

“Well no. Not if you already have a dagger and stab another person with that dagger and steal their shiny new dagger. Don’t need coin if you’ve got other ways of gettin’ things.”

“You’ve got me there.” I laughed. “I’m Reina, by the way, unless you plan on continuing to call me Fancy Prossy, which actually has a nice ring to it.”

“Sera. Haven’t decided. Guess it depends on how well we get to know one another.” I made eye contact with Derek and he subtly disappeared from the table.

“And how do you intend to get to know me?”

“Dunno yet. Depends on how you treat little people.”

“Little people like dwarves?" I said, puzzled.

“No, little people like those who aren’t all big and noble and fancy and complete arses. You’re not a little person, are you?” She eyed me. Before I had a chance to answer, she continued. “Since you asked ‘what’s a little person’ it probably means I’m right. Which means you’re noble. Or close to it. A big person. A rich-tit.”

“Honestly?” I leaned in. “I _am_ of noble descent, but it doesn’t matter here. I left that life behind. And nobility doesn’t matter to me, personally, for my job. Whether you’re big, little, rich, poor...I try to help everyone, in the ways I can. I may not have much power but what I do provide can be comforting.”

“Hm, fancy words fancy prossy.” She leaned back. “But, they’re not stupid empty fancy words. Or, if they are, you’re good at faking it. Not sure which is worse.”

“I try to be genuine.” I smiled. 

“Yeah, I think you are. I like your hair.” She stood abruptly. “I’ll find you if I ever need _comforting_.” She turned, disappearing up the stairs. I watched her go, bemused, before Derek returned to his seat, having not gone far.

“Well she seems...intriguing.” He said solemnly. 

I shook my head at him, smiling. “Fascinating. Most people here are, honestly.” I wouldn’t mind getting to know her, but it was not my nature to pursue a patron. We would see.

Derek and I continued chatting and drinking. We were enjoying it here, sharing interactions, new friendships and relationships. Even stoic, quiet Derek was content. In fact...

“Derek.” I said suddenly, interrupting him mid-sentence. “You’re...happy.” He looked at me, eyebrows knit together over a puzzled smile. 

“Should I not be?” He cocked his head with the question.

“No, it’s just that...you’re happier than I’ve seen you in a long time.” He blushed at this, colour heating his olive skin, so different from my near-luminescent palour. We looked nothing alike, he and I, the only indication we were both Vermahnese was the colour of his hair.

“I ah...” He ran a hand through short hair, so dark a green it was almost black.

“You met someone!” I knew the signs. He smiled, ducking his head to his tankard as I stared. I’d never seen him this _giddy_ before. Derek had always been like an uncle to me, guiding and scolding me since I was younger, encouraging and advising me as I grew older. Protecting me, beyond the boundaries of our kingdom. And now he was blushing and grinning like a fool. “Well, who is he?”

“The Tevinter mage in the library. His name is Dorian.” I had seen him a few times; he _was_ incredibly handsome. I was quite delighted with his moustache. He had also seemed like quite a flirt, however. I kept that to myself, but Derek seemed to know what I was thinking. “It’s nothing serious. I just enjoy spending time with him. Besides, neither of us want anything more than a physical relationship.”

“Then why are you blushing?” 

He rolled his eyes at me. “Because, I can have feelings for someone and enjoy spending time with them without being head over heels in love with them or wanting to spend every waking minute with them.”

“ _But_?” I asked. “I sense there’s a but.” Derek shrugged.

“He is the first man I’ve felt truly comfortable with since home.” I remembered that Derek’s husband, Warner, had been killed shortly after he had escaped with me and mother. Derek had blamed himself for a while. He possibly still did, at least a little bit. We did not talk much of our lives back home. They did not matter, anymore. It made no sense to dwell on something that we could never get back

“He’s really the first one you seem to have shown any interest in.” I admitted. 

“I had affairs with men in Orlais.” He replied with a frown. 

This made me raise my eyebrows. “Really?” I certainly had never noticed. 

He nodded. “I was incredibly discreet. The lower classes are a lot less accepting of those of us who prefer same-sex partners.” This made sense; Derek, unlike my mother and myself, was not of noble class. And the Orlesians were very big on title. This had probably ostracized Derek from their ranks. Funny that I hadn’t thought about it before...maybe Sera was right about me being fancy. Maybe I didn’t pay enough attention to the little people. Being trapped in the Orlesian courts, however, did not expose me to the lower classes. Which was not entirely my fault. Being among the people—big _and_ little—in Skyhold was a new experience. One I was learning from.

“Anyways.” Derek had finished another drink. “He’d asked me to meet him tonight.”

“So why are you here?” I demanded, before shooing him with my hand. “Go!”

“But you will be alone.” He sounded like he was convincing himself, not me. I laughed and gestured around.

“I’m in the middle of the stronghold of the Inquisition. I’m certain I’ll be fine.”

“We thought that in Orlais.” He reminded me. My face fell. “I’m sorry--” he began.

“I know, Derek, but this is a bit different from Orlais. We’re farther away from Vermahna than ever before, first, and second, we’re surrounded by trained soldiers.” I glanced over to the side of the room. “What if I went and sat with the Chargers? Got one of them to escort me back to my room at the end of the night?” Derek glanced in the direction of my intended protectors.

“Alright. Just tonight.”

“I’m sure this won’t be the last time. You deserve to enjoy yourself. It’s been long enough.” I shooed him again. “Now, go meet your mage.” He shook his head, smiling, still blushing, and disappeared after downing the rest of his drink. I stood as well and made my way to where I had promised to go. One of the people who frequently collected around the Iron Bull greeted me, pulling a chair up.

“Cort’esa.” Iron Bull grinned. “You want to play a game?”

Knowing that when Iron Bull suggested a game in a bar, it usually involved some degree of alcohol and double entendres and probably at least two stories involving sex, I grinned. “Nothing would make me happier.”

“Alright, but before we do, pay up.” He turned to the one who had offered me a chair, a soldier named Mirenn, if I remembered correctly, who sighed and handed him a coin. “Mirenn,” _I was right_ , “didn’t think you’d agree to a drinking game.”

“Oh, it’s a _drinking_ game?” I feigned surprise and Mirenn let out a _hah!_ and reached back to Bull for the coin. I placed a hand on her arm, chuckling. “Sorry, Mirenn, I was only joking. I could only assume a game in a tavern with the Iron Bull involves alcohol.” Mirenn laughed, shaking her head. “So, what are we playing?” I asked, reclining back in my chair, taking them all in.

“We can’t decide.” Krem growled. “We’ve gone through our entire arsenal of drinking games.”

“Then isn’t it your lucky day?” I fluttered my lashes. “I happen to have a slew of drinking games in my arsenal.” I made a show of stretching and settling into my seat. “First, how quickly do you want to get sloshed?” I smiled.

“Quickly.” Iron Bull laughed. “I’ll still be longer than the rest of them.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt you are.” I purred, which earned a laugh and an appreciative grin from the Qunari. “But I imagine you can hold your liquor better, too. Right, I’ll go the coarser route. Also the easier one, just this once. First, we need booze.” The gathered crowd leaned in, getting comfortable as a couple people went to fetch our drinks, quickly returning, arms plied with booze. I used the time they were gone to learn the names of those around whom I had not yet met. Once we were all settled, I explained the game.

“How it works is we all go in a circle, counting upward. We pick a digit and any number that has that digit in it or can be split into that number. If you reach a number that has the digit in it or can be split into that digit, you say,” I looked around, pausing, “ _Fuck_.” I said it crisply and Iron Bull laughed. “Then the direction of the counting changes and continues, until someone ruins it.”

“I like it. Simple.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re good with numbers.” Krem grumbled. 

“If you say fuck when you shouldn’t, or forget to say fuck when you should, you drink. If you get caught missing the word or saying it when you shouldn’t _after_ your drink is finished, you need to take a shot of straight alcohol before your next round or you forfeit and you’re out. Any questions?” I looked around. I was met with head shakes and smiles. “Alright, number is...six.”

And so, we began.

Rather quickly it became apparent that Krem had not been lying. He was _terrible_ with numbers and was done his drink fast, before anyone else. He got two more drinks in, and two shots of straight Antivan Brandy, before he gave up. He was the first, but not the last. That honour went to myself and my opponent.

“Fuck.” Bull declared proudly. I nodded.

“One hundred and thirty-seven.” I responded.

“One hundred and thirty-eight.” Bull replied.

“You were supposed to say fuck.” I smiled innocently. I was halfway through my third drink. Bull was halfway through his fifth. We were both about the same level of intoxicated. He took a swallow. “One hundred and thirty-nine.”

We continued a bit longer, slowly growing worse for wear, until Krem interrupted woozily. “Oh c’mon boss, she’s got you beat.” He slurred. “You should give up.” 

Iron Bull shook his head, refusing to surrender.

“I think we could both go on a bit longer, so I suggest a tie-breaker.” I smiled, slightly tipsy. “A marksmanship test.” This seemed to interest those gathered, drawing in their drunken attention.

“Bows? Axes?” Bull eyed my arms. “You don’t look like you could throw an axe. No offense.” 

I laughed. “None taken. I was thinking these.” I stood, teetered slightly, and pulled aside my skirt, which I had brought from home. It was a near-sheer garment, with a slit that went all the way from the bottom to nearly my hip. I pulled three small knives from their sheath at my thigh.

“Full of surprises, Reina!” Mirren chortled. I grinned and locked eyes on the Iron Bull.

“Shall we take this outside?”

 


	5. To Wake all of Skyhold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Please be advised, this chapter contains a sex scene.

The night air was cold and crisp, with a bit of a wind coming in off the mountains around the keep. It tugged at my hair, wild and loose around my shoulders. I led the party to the outside, where some targets were planted in the grass behind the tavern. A few others came to join us; whether they knew what was going on, had guessed, or were simply curious why the Cort’esa and the Iron Bull were making their way outside with a small entourage, none could say.

“Whoever gets closest to the middle wins.” I said. “Three knives mean three tries.”

“Before we begin…” Iron Bull loomed over me, staring down with his one good eye. “What does the winner get?” I smirked and beckoned him to lean down. He did so and I went up on my tip-toes to reach his ear, where I whispered my suggestion. He pulled back, his earlier smile turned into a full-on smirk. He offered me his hand.

“Deal. I was going to win anyway—”

“Don’t be too sure—”

“And even if I don’t…it still provides a chance for that _lesson_.” He chuckled, ignoring my interjection. 

I laughed in reply. “True.” I offered him the knives. “Ready?”

He took them and they looked miniscule in his enormous hands. Enormous hands that _would_ be on my body by the end of the night. He took up a position a good distance away from the target and weighed the small knives in his hand. He lifted one, taking aim, throwing…

And struck the third ring out from the center. The gathered crowd made a noise.

“That was just a practice.” He called out. He threw the next knife, striking just above center, bordering the second ring and the center dot. “See?” He threw the last on, this one only slightly off center. The gathered crowd cheered while Mirren went to fetch the knives. Iron Bull turned on me. “Well, Reina, think you can beat that?”

“I think I can try.” I tried to seem uncertain, doubtful, but I knew this was something I would beat him at.

Mirren handed off the knives to me, and I stood in the same spot as Iron Bull had just been. I lifted the knife, weighing it as the Qunari had, then threw it—

And hit dead center.

“Fuck.” Iron Bull groaned. “You played me, Cort’esa.” I turned on him, smiled, and, not removing my eyes from his face, threw the next knife. The noises from those gathered confirmed I had hit directly beside the second knife, center dot. Iron Bull was shaking his head, looking amused. I winked at him.

“Last shot.” I said. “Do you want me to move farther away?”

“No, better idea.” He stepped closer. “Upside down.” Unless I completely missed this last shot, I had won, and I was quite certain I could make the shot, even upside down. I just wasn’t sure how he expected me to hold myself upside down while also throwing the knife.

“Fine. How?” 

Without answering, he approached, wrapping his hands around my waist. I was pretty sure his hands went all the way around my figure. He lifted me upward as if I were nothing.

“Put your legs over my shoulders.” He said. I laughed and complied, my knees hooked over his shoulders, his face pressed against my lower belly. As he released my waist and before I let myself fall backward into a hanging position, I murmured.

“Get used to this position.” Which earned a rumbled chuckle which I felt through my body, as close as we were. His skin was warm, even though my clothes. Was it from the alcohol, or the promise of what was to come? My head came to rest against his stomach, and I could tell he was anticipating the next moment; breath still, body tense.

I lined up my shot. All was quiet around us. I took a deep breath, threw my knife—

“The _fuck_!” Iron Bull’s voice boomed, a second after the quiet _thwak_ of my knife hitting the target. It wasn’t the center, but it was in the second ring. I had won.

Iron Bull helped right me, and I locked eyes on his as I unhooked my legs from his shoulder and then slid down his chest, his arms around my waist again.

“I win.” I murmured. My tipsiness was fading after the thrill of the game. I smiled up at him. “I’ll see you in my chambers when you’re ready—” my statement turned to a squeal as he scooped me up, over his shoulder, a laugh erupting around us.

“No way. We’re going now.”

I giggled as he made his way through the open courtyard of Skyhold to the stairs that led to my rooms. I took a strand of my hair and stroked it across his broad naked shoulders, delighting at the goose flesh that erupted under the touch.

“You’re not ticklish, are you?” I asked.

“The Iron Bull? Not a chance.” He declared, reaching my door and setting me down. I took my key from my pocket and went to slip it into the lock, but Iron Bull’s hand braced against the door and I felt his breath, warm against my neck as he bent down—low—to bury his face in my neck and hair. I pressed back against him, feeling his warmth emanating from him like my own personal fire. I could tell he was excited and made to quickly open the door. He entered the fire-lit room, stooping slightly, and I returned to the door once he had passed, to close and lock it. We didn’t need to risk any possible interruptions.

I turned back to him to offer him a drink or a song or a story but had no chance. His hands were immediately on my hips, lifting me to meet his height. Our lips met fiercely, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, at least, as much as I could. His hand slipped under me, supporting me, my back pressed against the door, his other hand still braced against the wood behind me. I suspected this was to prevent him from crushing me more than anything else.

My own hands went around his neck and the thickly built muscles there. After a moment of devouring kisses, I pulled away.

“Goddess, you’re huge.” I trailed a hand down his shoulder, over his chest. “I can’t imagine another Qunari being as perfect to study as you.” This made him laugh.

“I haven’t even taking off my clothes yet.”

“What are you waiting for?” It was a low, silky whisper, spoken against his lips.

He made a noise at the back of his throat, something akin to a growl, and removed his hand from the door behind me. He slipped his free hand up the length of my leg, pushing my skirt up, revealing more and more of my pale, nearly pearlescent skin. The hand supporting underneath me lifted slightly, pulling me away from him. Enough for him to use his free hand to undo his belt. His mouth met mine again as I heard the heavy thud of his belt and pants hitting the floor beneath us. I pulled away.

“Not so fast.” I looked him dead in the eye. “ _I_ won the competition.”

“Damnit. I was hoping I could do that after.” He lowered me slightly, so I could feel his erection pressed against my own growing warmth. I shook my head, grinning mischievously. 

“I never forget a bet. And besides, I took you for a gentleman who keeps his word.” I pouted, eyes half-lidded. I felt him throb against me.

“You are a fucking vixen.” He said it without heat, turning away from the door. I clung tight to him until I was over the bed, then he dropped me down onto the mattress. This was fortunate, as it gave me a better look at him.

“Goddess, you _are_ huge.” I took in his length with my eyes and he stroked himself for good measure, proud.

“It’s still not too late…” 

I shook my head adamantly. “We had a deal. Next time, we can get straight to the fucking.” I propped myself up on my elbows. “Unless you just want to call it all off?” I raised one eyebrow at him. He reached down to grab the edge of my dress and paused, just a moment.

“I hope you’re not too strongly attached to this dress.” He growled. I shook my head. “ _Good._ ” He tore it from slit to neckline, then bent his head over my breasts, taking one in his mouth, hot with hunger, the other in his hand, rough and broad. I arched my neck back, pushing my chest further upward, making it more accessible to him. He bit down gently on my nipple, causing me to moan in pleasure. He continued this for a few heartbeats, biting and sucking and teasing and tweaking my nipples until they were aching pleasantly.

“If I’m too rough…” he spoke against my skin. I laughed.

“Our word can be _cheese wheel_.” I replied, understanding what he was getting at. He laughed, a throaty rumble, against my skin.

“Whatever you say, Cort’esa.”

His head roamed lower, and he planted bites and kisses along my skin, earning moans and sighs of pleasure and pain, intermingled in perfect harmony. Oh, he was _good_. I was rarely selfish but something told me that as much as he complained about my vixen-like tendencies, he was the kind who loved to send someone over the edge, to watch them peak.

His breath caressed my lower belly, causing me to shiver. I fell back on my back and my hands instinctively went to his head, finding the horns there. My hands tightened automatically on them as his mouth finally met my heat. I arched, my hips thrusting upward to meet him, wanting more, _craving_ more. He responded with a chuckle, which only drove me wilder. His hands came to my hips, pulling me closer to his mouth. I coiled my legs around his shoulders—the second time that night—and lost myself to the pleasure.

“My turn.” He grunted as I slowly opened my eyes and he pulled his mouth away from me, his chin glistening with the moisture of my orgasm. He stood and I saw he was still fully aroused.

“You did wait so patiently.” I responded, propping myself up on my elbows again. He reached for me.

“I want you back against that door. I want to rattle it so hard it wakes all of Skyhold.” He scooped me up again, our mouths meeting as my torn dress was left behind on the bed. I could taste myself on him, and it only served to arouse me even more. One of my hands went to the back of his head, to the shorn short hair there, rough against my fingertips, the other hooked around his neck, pulling myself closer, closer to him. Both his hands were around my rear, covering the soft roundness completely with his palms.

The wood of the door was hard against my back after the softness of the bed. Again, he pulled me up slightly so that I could rest against his member, before he slowly—oh, _goddess_ , so slowly!—lowered me so that I took in his full length. He rested like that for a moment, both hands still cupping my bottom. I bit him on the lower lip, then rested my forehead against his.

“What are you waiting for?” I whispered, voice hoarse with need.

“Fuck it.” He breathed, then began to pull out, before thrusting back into me, hard, causing me to cry out.

He set his pace.

With his hands around my ass, he had the perfect leverage to get as deep as he wanted. And clearly, that was what he wanted. With the slickness of my own arousal coating him, it was easy for him to thrust and thrust again into me, rattling the door as promised, as I slammed into it again and again. My face went to his skin and I bit him— _hard_ —between neck and shoulder, which caused him to growl loudly, squeezing tightly around my behind with his hands. I scratched my hands down his chest as I pulled my mouth away from his neck.

I gasped as he hit a particularly sweet spot, before he pulled completely out. I wanted to complain, but then he thrust back in completely sheathing himself again. He panted and groaned against my neck and jaw, biting me as I had bit him. My own cries of pleasure were just as loud as he pounded into me more and more, harder and harder.

And then he lost it.

He moaned into my hair; deep, low, guttural, animal. I felt him finish into me. This was of no concern to me though; I had ways of staving off pregnancy. One of the tricks we learned as Cort’esa, one of the many tools of our trade.

We remained like that for a moment, his chest rising and falling heavily against my breasts, before his hand came off my rear, fisting in my hair and pulling my head away from his shoulder. He bent his head to my neck, nipping and kissing at my flushed, sensitive skin.

Then he lifted me off of him—no longer fully hard, but still impressive—and threw me over his shoulder again. This time, no dress in the way, he gave my butt a hearty smack and bit me on the upper thigh.

“I’m going to have gouges in my back from your nails.” He murmured, setting me down on the bed. I laughed.

“And I’m going to be covered in bite marks.” I replied, eyes bright.

“Let me know if you ever want to have a knife throwing competition again.” He smiled. I laughed.

“Oh, I’m still not done my _complete_ study of Qunari anatomy.” I breathed. “This is far from over.”


	6. Mages

I awoke the next day, naked and happy, wrapped in the quilts on my bed. I sat up slowly, certain muscles in my body protesting due to the flexibility performed the evening before, after a long bout of inaction. I stood, stretching lazily, and then reached down for the ruined dress on the floor. It was easily mendable, I decided.  


Considering how many people saw us leave the night before, I figured Iron Bull was not one of my clients who would demand secrecy about the fact that he had spent at least a portion of the evening with me. I smiled, recalling that time spent. He’d certainly been one of the more adventurous ones in the Inquisition, and I had been impressed by his ability to throw me around so easily. He probably could probably lift and lower my body weight a hundred times before growing tired. Impressive stamina…which made me realize that, should the opportunity and interest arise again, I had the perfect idea for our next bet.  


I dressed and sought my sewing kit, and then decided I should likely seek Derek out, see how his night went and let him know that I had made it back to my room safe and sound. As promised, I had allowed one of the Chargers to escort me back; it’s leader. That definitely counted as keeping my promise.  


I wore a slightly more covering dress this time—I hadn’t had time to collect some herbs to make a poultice that diminished bruises yet—of deep green wool with a black and gold embroidered sleeveless tunic overtop. It was warm in my room, but we _were_ still in the mountains.  
My torn dress and sewing materials in hand, I headed to the library. I figured I could start there; if Dorian was not in his usual spot, then that might give me some indication to where Derek still was. Maybe.  


As I entered the tower, I paused. I recalled having spotted an old acquaintance from Orlais on the upper balcony of the main hall and wondered if it might be acceptable that I say hello. I decided I would. I turned away from the rounded chamber and made my way through a set of doors back into the main room of Skyhold, open and cavernous. I found Vivienne near a set of double doors, her own personal miniature salon taking up most of the balcony. It was the perfect spot for her, higher than nearly everyone else, an eye on all comings and goings. As I approached, she entered from the outside balcony overlooking the courtyard below. She smiled at me as I neared.  


“My dear Cort’esa!” She opened her arms wide to take in my appearance. “I had heard of your arrival but had not yet chanced to see you. How are you, darling?” We leaned in and pecked one another on the cheeks. She pulled back, wrinkling her nose slightly. “You smell like the tavern. And physical excertion.”  


“Well, this isn’t Orlais and perfumes and baths aren’t as easy to come by.” I retorted easily. Which reminded me, I had to find out if there was a natural spring nearby, or a basin of water I could keep in my room to clean with. I did not need to smell like sex, despite that part of my profession.  


“True enough, I suppose. Speaking of, how was the journey here?” She leaned in. “The nonsense from Orlais didn’t follow you?” With a jolt I realized that Vivienne probably was one of the few beyond Leliana and Josephine who knew truly why I had left Orlais. I clutched her hand.  


“Madame Defer…I don’t want to draw that sort of attention here.”  


“Does the Inquisitor know?” She demanded.  


“If Leliana or Josephine feel the need to tell the Inquisitor, that is up to them. However, both the Nightingale and Lady Montilyet have been gently quelling rumours of my being here.”  


“Hm.” She pursed her lips. “ _I_ believe the Inquisitor deserves to know. Cullen and Cassandra, too. The Commander can ensure that you are protected.”  


I shook my head. “I don’t need special accommodations. And Derek is my protection. Besides, being in the middle of Inquisition headquarters, this far from anything, will probably help immensely.”  


“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, my dear.” I released her hand, knowing that she would not reveal my secret. At least, unless she was questioned directly. She would not be one to lie on my behalf; we were not that close.  


“My loyalty is not in question and my being here should not inconvenience the Inquisition at all. I doubt that I should be sought this far away.”  


“You underestimate what people will do for power.”  


“I do not wish to argue with you, Vivienne.” I said softly. She laughed.  


“Fine. Do not heed me. You’ve always been quite single-minded.” She turned away, beckoning I follow. “How was the journey here?”  


I sighed. “Muddy. Cold. Long. Boring. Derek was on guard the entire time, so he was not his usual talkative self.” This made her laugh; even knowing Derek as little as she did, she was aware he was not a talkative man, not in public. “We travelled alone, to draw less attention. Almost came across a bear and her cubs, but luckily Derek diverted us. We met no one else on the road once we passed into the mountains. And we tried to avoid main cities which mean camping and no warm beds.”  


“That’s good, at least. Hopefully no one truly knows you are here.”  


We chatted a bit longer about idle gossip from Orlais and Skyhold. Nothing profound, just the usual affairs, rumours and betrayals of the court. Skyhold was a lot tamer, though Vivienne did give me a little information about the people within the keep. Eventually I bade her farewell and returned to the tower. As I turned to leave, she called out.  


“Oh, and Reina, dear, if I ever have one of those blasted headaches again—”  


“You know where to find me.” I smiled. Vivienne had been struck by a couple terrible headaches when we were at court together and had been quite thrilled to discover I knew of some techniques to massage out the pain. That was really how she and I had become acquainted.  


Upon entering the second-floor library, I immediately sought Dorian. He was where I suspected him to be.  


“Ah, yes, Reina.” He rolled out my name with a sly smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”  


“I believe the pleasure is mine.” I smiled. Dorian’s grin grew.  


“Too true, too true.”  


“Although, I believe that _perhaps_ there was another person involved in your pleasure last evening?” I smiled. “Derek _did_ find you, yes?”  


“Mm, yes he did.” He leaned against the shelf behind him. “I must say, I was surprised when he took me up on my offer. He seems so…”  


“Uptight?”  


“Precisely.” We shared a chuckle.  


“Derek is excellent at his job. But sometimes…he needs some time to be selfish.”  


“Believe me, he was _not_ selfish last night.” I smiled at this.  


“Well, at least you enjoyed yourselves. Do you know where he happened to end up?”  


“I’m afraid I tired him out. He returned to the soldier barracks sometime before dawn.”  


“Goddess, even I didn’t stay up that late!” I laughed. “He _must_ be tired.” Derek was not old, really, but he was in his early forties, while I imagined Dorian was probably almost a decade younger. “Thank you, Dorian.”  


“Anytime. And please, if you ever feel the need to give Derek the night off again…I will happily oblige to entertain him.” His moustache twitched with a smirk.  


“Well, at least one of us gets to enjoy that beautiful mustache.” I sighed dramatically. Dorian laughed, and responded by dramatically twirling the hair in question.  


“It is glorious, isn’t it?”  


“Best facial hair in the Inquisition, I’d say.”  


“I should add that when I meet new people. ‘Hello there, Dorian Pavus, best facial hair in the Inquisition.”  


“Well now, if you go around saying it, people are going to get jealous.” I stepped closer and gave his chin a tweak. “It can be our little secret.”  


He barked a laugh and caught my hand, kissing me on my knuckles. “I like you. You are the perfect flirt. Perhaps, next evening you are free, we might share a drink? And some mild flirtations?”  


“Sounds charming.” I laughed. “You know, it is too bad you are so taken by my guardian. I feel I would enjoy trying to seduce you.”  


“Well, there’s no harm in trying, I suppose.” He teased. “Besides, I would be a liar if I said I didn’t _love_ the attention, as futile as it is.”  


“That’s what I figured.” I turned away, leaving him to his own mechanisms, but turned back. “How about this evening? I would not mind some mild flirtations.”  


“Delightful. I shall mark it in my diary.”  


I snickered, turning away. I found a seat near one of the windows, where I could better see my work. I probably could have set up anywhere else, but I wanted to read once I was done my sewing. I repaired my dress swiftly, deft hands weaving the fabric back together with ease and practiced moves. It wouldn’t look perfect, but it was wearable. Once I was finished, I folded the dress and placed it on my chair, standing to seek a book.  


I didn’t know what I wanted to read. I had eaten up a lot of Varric’s books in the past few days, the ones that I had not already read in Val Royeaux, and I was feeling like I wanted something a little bit less fiction-y. I finally chose a book about the Fade, which was something I had very little knowledge but a deep interest in.  


I settled down into my chair and began reading, instantly deeply rivetted by the fascinating words of the Fade; what it was and did, how it worked…  


After probably an hour or so, I noticed someone else had come up to the library and was muttering to themselves, thumbing through the titles that I myself had looked through.  


“Where is it?” He murmured. “It was here yesterday.” He continued, reading off the titles. Suspecting something, I stood and walked over to him.  


“Excuse me, Solas, is it?” He turned to face me, somber face expressionless as he nodded. “Is this the title you are looking for?” I held out my book. His eyes went from the cover to my face, a small smile striking his lips.  


“Why yes, it is.” He made a strange face. “You were reading about the Fade?”  


I nodded. “Magic here is different from magic back home.”  


“There is magic where you come from?” He seemed intrigued. “But _you_ are not a mage?”  


“Yes, there is magic from my home. It is not as strong as the magic here, and different.” I avoided answering his second question, which had been more a statement than a question anyways.  


“Interesting. I did not expect to find an interest in magic in one skilled as you are.”  


“What a nice way of saying that.” I laughed. “I am quite educated in many subjects. I have made it my goal to learn about as much of Fereldan and the surrounding kingdoms as I can. Goddess knows I have the time for it.”  


“And yet we know so little of your people…” he murmured. He seemed approving though, of my answer.  


I held out the book. “Please, I do not wish to impede whatever it is you need it for. I imagine your need is greater.”  


“Oh, I was simply using it to cross-check something I already know. I just wanted to know the exact wording that was used by a certain mage.” He took the book but did not leave. “You have made me curious about your people, Cort’esa. Might I…inquire about your land?”  


This was not likely to end up in dangerous territory, and therefore I obliged. I followed him back down to his own little lair, seating myself in a stuffed sofa in the main lower chamber of the tower, my mended dress folded delicately in my lap.  


“What do you wish to know?” I asked.  


“You said ‘Goddess’ earlier. I take it you do not mean Andraste?” He sat in his own seat, on the other end of the couch from me, turned slightly, and I shook my head.  


“No. Though she is a fascinating legend.”  


“You do not worship the Maker then, either?”  


Again, I shook my head. “No. We do not believe in the Maker…at least, not a _male_ Maker. My people believe in a two Goddesses. Sisters. Outside of our temples and places of worship, they are simply called by that title. Within the walls of our temples, they are called Ljunara and Solmera.” It was slightly sacrilegious to refer to the goddesses by their proper names, while not in the temple. However, considering the conversation, it was for educational purposes. I was certain that was acceptable, even if my upbringing was telling me otherwise. “Ljunara and Solmera are sister goddesses, represented by the sun and the moon, each with their own powers over us. One provides life and warmth, the other protection and chill and the tides. Two faces of the same coin; both necessary, both powerful. In my homeland, you are chosen by the goddess when you come of age, through a trial. It is…much too long and complicated and highly secret to fully explain.” I apologized with a chuckle. “I was chosen by both, which is unique.” I turned my head and pulled my hair off of my neck. There was a tattoo there, a sun and a moon on top of one another, a couple finger widths away from the swell of my jaw. Solas hummed in interest. “We receive the mark immediately after our trial is complete. Then we are given our True Name.”  


“Is Reina not your true name?”  


“It is. Before I was called Reina, I was Cort’esa Meriadonna, which is simply the name of my clan or family. My mother named me Reina because it means ‘Queen’ in our tongue.”  


“Fascinating. Do your family names pass through male lineage or female lineage?”  


“Female. We are a matriarchal society, much like your Chantry.” I returned my hands to my lap, dropping my hair. “Which is why there is so much unrest in my home right now.”  


“Oh?”  


I made a face, closing my eyes. “My apologies, I was trying to avoid speaking of specifics, trying to remain impartial.”  


“Understandable. Though it seems like it is something important to you.” He pressed gently. “Besides, you have made me curious.”  


“Fair enough. Well, we are a matriarchal society and currently…there is a male in charge. This is not unheard of, men have assumed the throne before, whether being the heir to the throne or being chosen by the people to lead. That is another complicated thing…we have a monarchy, however we also have a Council, chosen by the people. Both work together to make best decisions for the people.”  


“So men can be leaders still, though it is rare?”  


I nodded. “It is rarer for them to be monarchs, more common for them to be elected by the people. Currently, however, there is no Council or Monarchy. A man named Chiral led a coup and overthrew the Council and the Monarchy, killing many and exiling others. My mother was part of the Council. We fled, to avoid being killed.”  


“That sounds terrible. This Chiral…he is still in power I take it?”  


“Yes. Unfortunately, he is a dictator, quelling rebellion with an iron hand. I’m…I’m not sure if things will ever return to normal.” I forced a smile. 

“My apologies. You asked about my land’s history and I started talking about politics. This conversation would be better suited for Lady Montilyet.”  


Solas shook his head, standing. “I believe I asked you about your people, not just your history. It is good to know about the trials and hardships faced by others. They are not so different than the trials we face here.”  


“True.” I admitted. “Suffering is the same everywhere. Here it is just a lot more…pressing, currently.” I was clearly talking about the breach, Corypheus, and the whole _raison d’être_ of the Inquisition.  


“I do not believe your plight is any less pressing, though it is more distant. Our problems, big or small, can shape us. That should not so lightly be ignored.”  


I smiled, face softening from the frown I had been wearing before. “I guess you are correct. Still, my kingdom’s problems do not threaten to destroy much of the world. Just mine.”  


“Exactly.”  


We spoke a bit more; I asked Solas about his knowledge and experience of the Fade, and in turn told him about our magic; how different it was from the magic here, how a greater deal of our people had magical capabilities, but to different extents.  


“I should leave you, you still have not had the chance to use the book you sought.” I stood.  


“Thank you for the illuminating discussion. I would love to know more about your land, if you ever have the chance.”  


“I have only scratched the surface. I will find you soon, unless you find me first. I myself want to know more about magic here. Thank you, Solas.”  


With that I left him, taking my dress and kit back to my room. It was nearing mid-morning and I still had not eaten. The mess hall and the soldiers barracks were close to one another, so I figured I should probably seek out a meal and my companion.


	7. Subtle Wisdom and Harmless Flirtations

Food ended up being far from a simple ordeal. I entered the mess hall, intending to get a quick bite and instead got roped into a conversation with a few soldiers who were holding a debate over weapon choices. Which then led us to a great discussion about battle strategy. I knew a little about battle strategy, despite not being a fighter myself. Still, I was able to hold my own in the conversation, discussing finer points of Vermahnese strategies from old battles. Cort’esa learned a bit about fighting—the throwing knives from the night before showed that we were not completely incompetent when it came to weapons—but we were not primarily warriors. Speaking of my knives… 

“I really must depart.” I said, after a time. This was met with some protest, but I laughed. “You all know where to find me if we must continue this discussion later.” 

I left, feeling refreshed and full and…comfortable. The fact I was fitting in so well here, I enjoyed it in a way I hadn’t in Orlais. Perhaps it was because of the difference in expectations between Skyhold and Orlesian courts—people were more easily entertained here, seeking out small moments of joy amidst the potential for danger at each turn. Perhaps it was the genuineness of the people, or the fact it was so exotic, so new to me. Regardless the reason, I liked it here. Sure, I missed home… _my mother_ …but there was a healing to be found here. For myself and for others. 

I returned to the scene of the contest the night before but did not see my blades in the targets. I frowned. They were my only real weapon, and one of the few things I had kept from home. They had once been my father’s. I wondered where they had ended up. I was not too panicked, as I was certain no one would actually steal them, but they were precious to me. 

I entered the tavern and found Iron Bull, in his usual spot. 

“Already at it?” I asked, jokingly. He laughed. 

“Hair of the dog.” 

“Reina, you did a number on the Commander!” Krem called out. “You should see his back.” 

I could see small bite marks peppering his shoulders and chest. I had gone a bit overboard, I guessed. I could only imagine the marks my nails had left on his back. 

“Well, I’m not unmarked, myself.” This earned some noises of approval and Krem slapped Iron Bull on the arm. 

“You didn’t happen to see where the knives went, did you?” I asked, once the slight cheers had died down. Iron Bull shook his head. 

“They were gone when I woke up today, and I didn’t think to check last night.” 

“Krem?” I asked. He’d been there when we’d left. 

“I’m not sure, Reina.” He shook his head. “There would have been soldiers doing rounds. They might have taken them to the Commander.” He hazarded his guess. 

“Oh, of course.” I couldn’t imagine Cullen would appreciate seeing me as I seemed to make him uncomfortable whenever we met. 

“What’s wrong?” Krem asked, clearly picking up on something in my voice or expression. “Not fond of the old Templar?” 

I shook my head. “No, it’s not that. I don’t think he particularly likes me, but is too polite to say.” 

“I doubt it. He’s probably just worried about falling in love with you and having his heart broken.” 

I laughed at this, before realizing that Iron Bull was not in fact joking, though his face suggested it. I frowned. “You think…that is likely?” 

“He holds himself back, personally, and overcommits himself to his forces. There is a man who is passionate about everything he does. I would not be surprised.” 

“Oh.” I hoped that was not the case, either. Feelings were not something I had the luxury of reciprocating, as a Cort’esa. “Well, perhaps I can encourage him to dislike me…” With this in mind, I bade farewell to the Chargers, thanking Krem again for his suggestions, followed out by a few crude remarks made on behalf of both myself and Iron Bull. I made my way up the stairs to the ramparts, turning to Cullen’s quarters. As I approached, an Inquisition soldier exited, nodding to me as I crossed the walkway of the wall. I knocked on the door and was heeded to enter. 

“Commander Cullen?” I asked tentatively. “I was told my throwing knives may have been recovered and given to you?” 

He looked up at my voice, as if surprised to see me in his office, and his mouth opened slightly, as if he was about to speak. He remained silent, hesitating, and then cleared his throat and bent back over his desk. 

“Yes, the small decorative knives found behind the tavern.” 

I nodded, _uh-huh_ ing in response to the question. “I forgot them after a small contest with the Iron Bull last night.” 

“Oh…” he looked up and I noticed a slight reddening to his cheeks. He must have heard, either in detail or at least in passing, of what that contest had consisted of, and how it had ended. “Yes.” He cleared his throat, and crossed his arms, gazing at me. “Why does a Cort’esa need knives?” 

“Protection, entertainment such as last night. Cutting things.” I smiled. “They were my father’s, so if you don’t mind…” I took a step forward and he came out from around the desk, bumping it slightly as he made his way to a chest by the wall. 

“Damn.” He cursed, massaging the spot he’d likely bruised. “Sorry, yes. I locked them up.” He unlocked the chest and took out my knives, wrapped in a cloth. He turned, handing them to me. “They are…beautiful.” His eyes met mine on the last word and I took the knives. 

“Thank you.” I said. _So far, not great with the whole make him not like you plan_ I thought to myself. It was hard to not be charismatic, being who I was. I took the knives, figuring I’d tuck them back into their thigh holster once I’d returned to my room to fetch the garment in question. “I’m sorry if I make you uncomfortable.” I said swiftly, turning away. “I will be sure to stay away from you, so as not to interfere with your concentration.” 

I strode hurriedly to the door, opening it and exiting quickly, before Cullen had a chance to reply, though I was certain I heard an intake of breath as I left. _There’s that_. I thought. _Unless he comes to me, I have reason to stay away from him._

Feelings from another could never be reciprocated and as a Cort’esa my aim was to heal and comfort, not wound, not break hearts. 

It was too bad his eyes had been so beautiful…. 

I shook the thought of the Commander’s eyes from my mind and made my way back to the soldier’s barracks, where I met Derek exiting. 

“Well hello there, you scoundrel.” I teased. Derek shook his head at me, massaging his shoulders. 

“You don’t have any of your bruise poultices prepared yet, do you?” 

I shook my head and pulled the neck of my gown aside to show him my own love-marks. He chuckled. “I’m going to get the herbs tonight, after I meet with your paramour.” 

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow as we made our way to the upper levels of the Keep. “Why are you seeing Dorian?” 

“Would you believe it? He’s fallen helplessly in love with me.” I twirled in front of him, swirling my hair. He laughed. 

“Right, of course. How could I forget.” He rolled his eyes and I stuck my tongue out at him. 

“We were speaking about you and flirting— _of course_ —and he asked me to take a drink with him this evening. I imagine we will mostly be flirting and telling outrageous stories to one another, really.” I shrugged. “You know me; I do what is needed, what is expected.” 

“You do. Mind that doesn’t define you.” 

I frowned at him, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “What do you mean?” 

“You are young. Do not sacrifice your own happiness for that of others.” 

My mouth opened slightly and then I smiled, my frown melting away. “Oh Derek, when did you get so philosophical? Spend one night for the first time in ages in the bed of another man and now suddenly you are so wise?” 

“I’ve always been wise.” He grumbled. “ _You’ve_ just ignored me.” 

“No I haven’t.” 

“Really? How is your defence coming?” 

I bit my lip. “Alright, so that’s one example.” 

He shook his head, clearly disappointed, if also amused. “Come on. I’m going to make sure you do what is best for you and learn to protect yourself. You can’t spend all your down time reading.” 

“Fine.” I grumbled. “If that’s the case, then I’ll need to change. I’m not fighting in a dress with my hair in the way.” 

“Meet me behind the tavern when you’re ready.” He instructed. I curtsied low. 

“Your wish is my command, _Father_.” 

I did change, as promised, coming down in a pair of form fitting leather pants and a long tunic that was loose enough in the arms to provide me with necessary movement. I had braided and coiled my hair around my head—that had taken the most amount of time—and finished it off by wrapping a kerchief around my head, to keep any loose strands from falling into my eyes. It almost completely obscured my exotic hair. 

“About time.” Derek complained, as I met him. I pointed at my head. 

“My hair takes forever to braid, Derek. I came as soon as I could.” To an outsider, we might seem like we were bickering, but this was just how we were. He was one of the few who saw me as Reina, not just the Cort’esa, but as my own individual person. Which was also why his earlier comment about not sacrificing my own happiness for others was lingering in my mind. Still, I tried to brush it off. I was a Cort’esa, and that was my job. 

He handed me a blunted sword. 

Sword-play was the one thing I had adamantly refused to pursue beyond a few beginner lessons when I was in school. I did not think it would benefit me. Instead, I focused on reading and dance and other interests. My mother had told me to at least learn one weapon, so I had chosen knives. I’d also learned a type of combative dance, but, unlike my knives, I hadn’t practiced in a long while. After the events of Val Royeaux…maybe it was good I started practicing again. 

Derek pointed his sword at me. “Show me what you remember.” 

It turned out to be very little, the basics at best. Derek was clearly discouraged. 

“Alright, let’s start at the beginning with stance…” he suggested, and that was precisely what we did, with me mirroring his moves and stances, and him approaching to poke and prod and move my limbs so I was standing properly for combat. 

Once he was satisfied with that, we worked on footwork. It was all very basic, but I was unusually slow at learning the moves and picking up his instruction, much to both of our chagrin. 

Finally, as the sun was dipping beyond the walls of the keep, beginning its descent into late afternoon, Derek dismissed me. I wiped a bead of sweat from my brow. 

“Go. Get some dinner and we shall begin again tomorrow.” I nodded, tired. “And Reina…good work today.” It was nice that he said it, even if I didn’t feel it myself. I nodded again, weary, and returned the borrowed sword to him before turning and walking across Skyhold’s grounds. I was reviewing what we’d gone over, and where I could improve for the following lesson. So consumed I was, concentrating on my improvements for the next time, I didn’t notice someone had stepped into my path until we careened into one another. His arm shot out to steady me, his other hand clutched around a missive he’d clearly been reading when he’d bumped into me, and I him. 

“Eyes forward, soldi--” Cullen said, and faltered when I looked up to thank him. “My apologies, Cort’esa. I thought you were one of mine.” His eyes took in my flushed state; the top of my tunic was undone, showing off a deep V of my chest, my unbound breasts pressed against the fabric of the shirt, nipples pert against the fabric due to the cold. I hadn’t wanted to wear an undergarment after the previous night, my breasts were still tender from the time I’d spent with the Iron Bull. Some strands of my hair, despite my effort, had fallen from their holding and were tickling my cheeks and neck and my face was still warm with exertion. 

“I’m sorry, Commander, I should have been looking where I was going.” I smiled, drawing away. He swallowed, and nodded, his eyes avoiding mine, looking over my shoulder. 

“Me too. I ah…should let you go.” He dropped his hand and continued on his way to the main hall, probably to report something to the War Council. I, in turn, continued to my own room, changing out of my clothes and into the green and gold dress I’d been wearing earlier. I let my hair out of its kerchief, unpinning it from the braids, and letting it cascade down my back in a pale purple waterfall. Then I went for supper. 

I took my meal from the mess hall and made my way to the tavern where I found Dorian already waiting for me. 

“You weren’t just with a patron, were you?” He asked as I sat with my food. He slid me a glass of wine, which I took greedily. I shook my head. 

“No, why do you ask?” 

“You look flushed and radiant. The way one might look after a delightful romp with a lover.” 

“I see. No, Derek was just drilling me—” 

“I did not know you two were that close.” He interjected, sipping his wine with a grin. I glared—insincerely, of course—at him. 

“He was drilling me in swordplay, _Ser_. How dare you imply such impropriety.” I faked the offended noblewoman, which ended up in a laugh from Dorian. I set into my meal. 

“Oh, Bravo.” He sipped his wine. “I see why you are so good at what you do; I don’t think there is a personality or characteristic you couldn’t pull off.” 

“Are you complimenting my acting abilities?” I asked, having finished my first few mouthfuls of food. He laughed. 

“Why not? We are here for mild flirting at my request, after all.” 

“Well then, I suppose it’s my turn to compliment you.” I sipped the wine, humming appreciatively at the dryness. “Delightful. I could begin by telling you that you have an excellent taste in wine. And clothes.” 

“And company.” He lifted his glass to mine, and we clinked them together. 

Tossing compliments back and forth, we slowly drank through a couple bottles of wine until we were both tipsy, cheeks red, telling bawdy jokes and stories to one another, and the room at large. There were many familiar faces that night; I imagined it was downtime for many, or a shift change. Maryden and Krem were talking, close together in one of the corners— _good_ , I thought—and many others were drinking and telling stories or jokes or tales of their own. Blackwall was alone, somber, quiet. Poor man…I wondered if he might enjoy some company at some point. I had not remembered seeing him in the tavern before today. I focused my attention back on Dorian, who was looking over my shoulder. 

“Derek, hello.” He smiled as my friend approached, sitting with us. “Your ward here is a lot dirtier minded than she’d have everyone believe.” He smiled. “It makes me like her even more.” 

“Got into the wine, I see.” Derek sighed, shaking his head. “If she drinks anymore, she’ll be singing all the bawdy songs she knows. You think the stories are bad? The songs are far, far worse. Enough to make a bandit blush.” 

“Funny, I was just thinking it was high time for me to sing _The Bandits Hide_.” I said evilly. Derek shook his head. 

“There is no way you are drunk enough for that.” He looked at the wine bottles. “Two bottles? And it seems Dorian drank more than you.” 

“Hey, I resent that completely accurate presumption.” Dorian pouted. Derek reached for him. 

“Before the Cort’esa here pressures you into drinking even more—which she _will_ —I will take you back to your room.” He helped Dorian up, who leaned in and whispered something in his ear. Derek flushed, swallowing thickly. “We…may not return.” He murmured, slipping is arm around Dorian’s waist and helping lead him out of the tavern. I snickered. To be fair, I was quite positive that Dorian was not nearly as drunk as he was acting. I, myself, was only slightly tipsy, face warm with the wine, mind slightly heady from the drink. I glanced over to the table where I’d seen Blackwall, lonely, staring into his cup. He was there, finishing his drink. As I approached, he stood and made to exit. I halted him with a hand on his arm. 

“Ser Blackwall—” 

“Just Blackwall.” He cut me off. 

“If you ever need to get something off your chest, I am told I am a wonderful listener. You look like you could use some company, whether now or later.” I did not lace the words with innuendo, or flirtation. It would be up to him to decide what sort of company he needed. He looked at me quizzically. 

“Are you propositioning me?” He asked, quieter. I met his eyes. 

“Not unless you want me to be. I offer what you need, whatever you decide that may be.” 

He stared into my eyes a moment longer, and then sighed. 

“It may be for the best.” He murmured. “I’ll come to your room in a few hours.” 

I nodded and removed my hand from his arm. He left and I made to follow when I heard someone call my name. I turned to see Krem, having left Maryden to her lute, smiling at me. 

“Did you find your knives?” 

I nodded. “Yes, you were right. The Commander had them. Thank you.” I waved to him and he saluted, eyes returning to the lady bard he liked so much. I exited into the chill mountain air. 

It was the perfect time to fetch the herbs I needed for my poultices, I decided. Especially if Dorian and Derek were going to be going at it again this evening. Returning to my chambers, I fetched my knives, already put back in the thigh holster, and strapped it on. I also grabbed my fur mantle, the one I had arrived in, and a small bag in which to put my herbs. Once ready, I left my room. I hesitated at the door; should I lock it? I wouldn’t be gone for long, but I didn’t want Blackwall to think I’d forsaken him. I went back in, scrawled a note on a parchment and then came outside, locking the door. I tucked the note in the door frame, wedging it in so it couldn’t blow away, so that Blackwall, should he arrive before me, would know I would be returning and that I hadn’t forgotten our meeting. 

I made my way out of the lower levels of the keep and toward the bridge to the outside world. The sentries on guard stopped me as I left. 

“Halt. Where are you going?” One of them asked, turning towards me and away from the front gate. I smiled. 

“I saw the path down to the lake and I need some herbs that only grow in water. I was hoping to find them.” 

“Unfortunately, only soldiers or those with permission from the Inquisition leaders can leave after sundown.” The woman replied curtly. I frowned. 

“I understand.” I slumped. I was really hoping to get those herbs. I needed to restock my stores. 

“She’s with me.” I stiffened at the voice. 

“Knight-Commander.” The guards saluted. 

“It’s…just Commander. We are not templars.” He said forcefully. The sentries nodded. 

“You are leaving the keep, sir?” The other guard asked. Cullen came forward, into my line of sight. 

“Just down to the water front. I will be within shouting distance, if need be.” He nodded once to the guards and I followed him out from under the entry, into the moonlight.


	8. By the Light of the Moon

“Thank you.” 

They were the first words spoken after we left the keep. Cullen picked his way down a set of worn stone steps, turning back to help me navigate in the darkness. 

“I don’t want you to fall.” He said simply. 

“No, thank you for vouching for me. I appreciate it.” I responded stiffly. 

“Don’t mention it.” 

We lapsed back into silence, focused on climbing down the somewhat treacherous steps, as they curled around the outer wall of the keep and down toward the edge of the nearly fully frozen lake. 

“How did you know about this path?” He asked. “You don’t look like you’re dressed to go far, so I assume you were planning on taking this route to the water, instead of travelling all the way down the road.” I nodded as he turned to me, warning me of a particularly slippery step. 

“I saw the path when I first arrived.” I admitted. 

“You are very perceptive.” 

“Thank you.” 

We reached the water’s edge, and my suspicions were correct; the plants I needed for my bruise poultice were there, along with others that would be invaluable for me to have. I made to move forward, and Cullen grasped my wrist. 

“Careful! The rocks are slippery.” I looked from his gloved hand wrapped around my wrist, to his face. He dropped his wrist, looking away. “Sorry. I did not mean to be impertinent.” I shook my head. 

“It’s not that. I thought you’d hate to touch me.” 

“Oh.” He frowned. 

We stared at one another a moment longer and I turned away to collect the plants I needed. 

“So, you are an alchemist, as well?” He prompted, sounding slightly uncomfortable. I was not sure which made him more uncomfortable; me or being impolite and not speaking to me. Clearly, the latter, since he was attempting to engage in conversation. Crouched by the water’s edge, I lifted my skirt back to remove one of my decorative blades from my thigh sheath. The moonlight practically caused my skin to glow. 

“Not really.” I said, over my shoulder as I used my knife to collect some cuttings of the plants I needed. “I know only enough to make a few select poultices. That’s like calling a field-doctor a healer. They know how to splint a broken bone, but not necessarily how to set it.” 

“Interesting comparison.” He sounded slightly more relaxed, now that I was speaking about things he could at least feign interest in. 

“Why did you come out here?” I asked suddenly, standing, curious. 

“I couldn’t sleep.” He seemed surprised at himself for admitting it. He rocked on his heels, looking out across the water. “It’s been a rough couple of days. The Inquisitor established another Keep, in the field, but trying to get soldiers to occupy it has been a frustrating process, due to threats on the path.” 

“I see.” I nodded, tucking my plant clippings away. I wiped my knife off on my skirt, before lifting it, and tucking my knife back into its sheath. I turned my gaze on Cullen, who was looking pointedly away from me. “I cannot help with the soldiers, but if you can’t sleep, I might help, if you’d let me.” 

“Ah…” He cleared his throat, glancing back to me. “I don’t think I need—” his face was turning a bright red. 

“I don’t mean what you think. Though…I do know that helps men fall asleep.” I was enjoying the flush to his face. I did not normally run into those who were so taken aback and embarrassed by my propositions. Maybe Iron Bull was wrong; maybe the Commander was just…traditional. And guarded. And preferred propriety. 

“Oh.” 

“You don’t _really_ know what I do, do you?” 

He looked ready to protest, then dropped his shoulders with a sigh. “No. I’m…I’m afraid I don’t. And also…I let my initial perception of you to colour my knowledge.” 

“At least you can admit it.” I smiled gently, my head cocked slightly, understanding colouring my voice. “Well, if you care to know, I do not simply provide sexual comforts. As I said at our first meeting, I know many, many other ways to help people.” I told him of what I’d been doing the past few days; speaking with people, laughing with them, telling them of stories from my homeland—both myths, legends and true stories—and generally helping boost morale however I could. 

“For some…healing is a physical process.” I leaned against a large rock resting by the water’s edge, toying with the strings of the small pouch that held my clippings. “For others it is spiritual. Or emotional. Sometimes those spheres overlap. Some just need…to know someone cares.” I turned my eyes on him, fierce. I wanted him to understand. I didn’t know why, but I _needed_ him to understand. “And I care deeply. Anyone who comes to me, whatever their need is…I want to help them. To heal them, clear their mind, body and soul.” My voice caught. “That is the code of a Cort’esa. To help. To heal.” 

He was staring at my strangely. Suddenly I was embarrassed about my outburst. I wasn’t supposed to reveal these parts of myself to anyone. That was also the Cort’esa code. We were actresses, skilled, deflective. The focus was supposed to be on the other, not us. 

“Sorry.” I mumbled, ducking my head. “I shouldn’t—” 

“What about you?” 

His question stopped me. I looked up, brow furrowed. He was still looking at me, with a look of someone who has just had something puzzling and fascinating revealed to them. 

“What do you mean?” I asked. 

“Who helps you?” 

“I—Derek does.” 

“Not the way you take care of others.” He remarked. “I’ve seen you two together. He looks out for you like a father. A guardian. Not…not the way you look out for others.” He held his breath, then let it out. “Although, I don’t think anyone can care the way you can.” He sounded a bit taken aback. 

“Oh.” I smiled softly, looking out over the water. “No one, I guess.” 

“Doesn’t it get…draining?” 

I shrugged. “That’s why I have time to myself. To read. To learn. And tomorrow, to practice my Bat’Dansa.” 

“Bat’Dansa?” 

“Combative dance.” I smiled, bringing my eyes back to him. “From my home. It’s the one form of combat every Cort’esa learns, no matter her other choice of weaponry. Also because it’s truly beautiful to watch. It is a dance, after all.” 

“I see.” He looked as if he was ready to say more. I pushed myself off of my perch on the rock. 

“We should be getting back, no?” 

He nodded once, a quick jerk of his head. He gestured for me to go first up the steps, bringing up the rear. 

“You got all the plants you needed?” He asked, returning to our awkward, halting and stiff conversational habits from before. His voice still held a forced levity. 

“Yes, thank you. I hope the fresh air cleared your head.” 

“We shall see. I don’t think so.” 

“Let me help.” I urged. “You need to take care of yourself so that you also may take care of the Inquisition. You cannot do that short of sleep and stressed out.” 

He drew in a breath, seemingly ready to protest, and then let out an explosive sigh. “Alright.” 

We entered back through the main gate, the guards saluting the Commander who bid them good evening. I followed him to his rooms, noticing the stiffness in his back as we climbed the stairs to the room I’d come to earlier to get my knives. 

“Commander…no one is around and I’ll be out in a few moments. You need not worry about impropriety.” I said softly as we entered his quarters, into his office. He turned to face me. 

“I know, I—” 

“ _Relax_. I’m not about to make inappropriate advances. I just want to help.” My voice was sincere and I willed him to see it in my eyes. He relaxed slightly. 

“Right.” 

“However you won’t like this next part.” I smiled apologetically. “You’ll need to take off your mantle.” I saw him grimace. “You can still wear a shirt. But I need to touch your shoulders, with as little fabric between us as possible.” 

“Alright.” He complied, mouth tight. I looked around the room as he stripped out of his outer clothes. There was a ladder near the front of the room, that must take him to the upper part of his room, where his bed was. He wouldn’t have far to go once I worked my magic hands on him. And, to a small extent, my actual magic. 

“Sit where you are comfortable.” I said, once he was down to a shirt, his outerwear cast over one of the shelves in the room. He chose his chair and I made my way behind him. “I’m going to touch you now.” I said softly, warning him. Then I placed my hands on his shoulders and began to slowly knead them. He was so _tense_ , the muscles beneath my hands corded and knotted. He was no Iron Bull, but the Commander was more muscular than the layers of clothes would have suggested. 

“Relax…” It was no more than a breathed word from me. “I’m not going to hurt you.” 

I felt him let out a breath I hadn’t known he’d been holding and felt some of the tension leave his body. I began to hum then, a soft song akin to a lullaby under my breath. It was aimed to relax, to calm. Plus, it allowed me to concentrate my magic on him, to see where the problem resided. I suspected he would not have told me the whole truth, as uncomfortable as he was around me, so I was not surprised when I sensed a pain within him, something eating at him. It was faint, but it was there, and I couldn’t quite place my finger on it. Then I realised what it was. 

Back home, there was a special plant that, when processed in certain ways, created a drug that we used to help people sleep, to relax them, to soothe nightmares and terrors. However, if it was processed with another plant, it turned into a much stronger version of the drug that sent people into a dream-like state. And it was highly addictive. As a Cort’esa with healing powers, I often dealt with those who were trying to recover, going through withdrawals. I sensed this was similar, if not the same. And while Cullen’s symptoms were not as strong, he was definitely weaning himself off…something. 

I kept massaging his shoulders, working my way up to his neck and head, my hands tangled in the thick warmth of his golden hair as I continued to hum and heal. 

His head slumped forward, and he started. 

“I’m sorry, I—” 

“No, that’s perfect.” I slowly removed my hands from his hair, which was softer than I’d anticipated. “Now, you should go to bed. And if you ever need me again, please tell me. I’m at your disposal, as much as anyone else’s.” 

He stood from his chair, eyes heavy, yawning. “Thank you.” He blinked blearily. 

“It was my pleasure.” I inclined my head. “Now, sleep.” 

He nodded lazily. I made my way to the door as he made his way to the ladder, almost stumbling, tired as he was. I waited for him to get up the ladder before leaving; I didn’t need him to fall to his death with me as the only witness. 

I left into the cold night air, feeling happy. I’d helped the resistant Commander. I felt pleased. I made my way to the stairs to my room and saw Blackwall coming down. 

“Blackwall.” I approached and he turned to see me cutting across the yard. “Did you get my note?” 

“Yes. I was going to return in a few moments. But now that you’re here…” He smiled, which was surprising. “I do need your help. But it must be discreet…” 

“Of course.” I nodded, then gestured to the stables; I knew his room was above. “Would you like me to come to you?” 

“Yes. I’d be…more comfortable.” 

I rarely conducted business outside of my own quarters, which was mostly the choice of others. People could easily come to me without being seen. However, late as it was now, there was no one in the courtyard but horses. The soldiers on the wall were more focused on what went on outside the walls than within. 

I followed him into the barn, the smells of horse and hay meeting my nose. I breathed deeply. 

“Sorry, I forget it’s a fucking disaster in here. You’re probably used to a more pristine environment.” 

I shook my head, smiling kindly. “No, I like it. I’m liking it here far more than Orlais.” 

“Truly?” He asked, leading me to the stairs upward. “I would imagine there are far more interesting characters there.” 

“They may be more interesting, but they are false, usually. Caricatures of who they really are. It grows old quickly.” I sighed. He chuckled, low in his throat, but seemed to be holding something back. 

“I don’t doubt that.” 

Once in the loft, he turned to me. He looked lost. 

“I don’t know…what to do.” He laughed, uncomfortable. “Of course, I know _what_ to do, but not…with you.” 

“Well…what do you need from me? Do you want to talk, or me to talk, or just to have company?” I laid a hand on his arm, my head falling to one side, letting my hair cascade over my shoulder. “I am here to help you how you see fit. You seemed lonely…” I smiled. “I thought maybe someone to talk to, unless you want something else.” 

“I want to _start_ by talking, I suppose.” His mouth quirked in a smile below his moustache. He reached up, taking the hand that was on his arm. He led me over to the bed, where we sat, almost touching. “May I?” He gestured to my hair. I nodded. He reached up to pull the flowing strands over my shoulder, running his hands through my locks. “I can’t believe it’s real. It looks…painted.” 

I laughed. “If you were to come to my land, the women would say the same about your hair. They would love the beard, especially.” I reached up, burying my fingers in the coarse fibers of his facial hair, massaging his skin beneath. “Men in our land don’t grow facial hair, really. Derek does, mostly to keep his face warm.” 

“Really?” He smiled. “That’s…interesting.” His hand slipped from my hair to my shoulder and he pulled me closer, brushing his lips against mine in a brief, tentative kiss. Then he broke it off. “I guess you must find it quite lonely, sometimes, being so far from home.” 

I smiled. “Sometimes. Having Derek here helps. He reminds me of home, my family. What about you?” I asked. “You don’t seem too attached to many people here except the lady Ambassador.” 

He flushed, smiling and chuckling. “You don’t miss a trick, do you?” I shook my head at the remark. “It’s true. I like to spend time with her. Though we both know it’s not something that can be anything more than a flirtation.” 

“Hence the loneliness.” I said softly. “And the desire for my company.” 

He nodded, meeting my eyes. “I’m sorry—” 

I pressed a finger against his lips. “Don’t be. It is part of who I am. I will help you how I can. If that means you close your eyes and pretend that I’m someone else, then that is what you must do. If it means you call me by another’s name, then so be it.” I removed my finger from his lips, replacing it with my own lips. He closed his eyes and gave into the kiss. “Just tell me what you want.” I murmured against his mouth, our breaths intermingling. 

“I want…Josephine.” He murmured back, eyes still shut tight. He kissed me harder, and tangled his hands back in my hair, pulling me closer. I rested a hand on his leg. 

He turned more fully towards me, slipping a hand under my leg and lifting me onto the bed so that he was propped over me. I started to unlace the bodice of my dress without breaking our kiss. Once my clothes were undone, I pressed upward, sitting up so that I might pull my clothes over my head. Blackwall took my cue and sat back, his hands going to the edge of my dress and lifting it over my head. I lay back, naked on his bed and he came back over me, propped up on his elbows. I went about undoing the laces of his breeches and he slid them off, kicking them off the bed once I was done. In nothing but his shirt, he kissed the length of my neck, murmuring against my skin. One hand grasped mine, twining our fingers together beside my head, his other hand gripped my hip, stroking and squeezing intermittently. 

“I want you, Josephine…” I almost didn’t hear him, his voice was so soft. 

“I want you, Blackwall.” Part of my training was in voice; what I couldn’t mimic naturally, I enhanced with a hint of magic. I sounded so similar to Lady Montilyet that Blackwall’s eyes fluttered a moment, but he did not open them. He probably thought his imagination had taken over. _Good._

He was now only propped up on the one hand, his other hand having found its way to the warmth between my legs, where he slowly stroked and pleased me, coaxing me to become wetter for him. 

“Josie…” His voice was thick with desire. I kissed him fiercely, my free hand snaking behind him, cupping his backside and drawing him closer. He lowered himself to me, his erection pressed against my leg. 

“Take me, Blackwall.” I breathed into his ear, breaking off the kiss. He moaned and used his legs to part mine fully, lining himself up between them. He used his free hand to grasp himself and slowly ease himself, sheathing himself fully in my warmth. I gasped. “Yes!” It was strange for me, as well, hearing Josephine’s voice coming from my mouth. I made sure to keep it down; no one needed to think that the real Josephine was conducting an affair with the Warden. 

He held his position a moment, then brought his lips back to mine, kissing me, slowly, gently, languidly. I could tell he was savouring this moment, enjoying the fulfillment of his fantasy. He kissed me deeper, exploring my mouth with his tongue, and I responded by arching my hips against him, earning a noise from the back of his throat in response. He slowly drew his hips away then slowly thrust back into me. 

He wanted to go slow, to draw out the moment. I could do that. 

I rocked my hips slightly against his and his hands tightened on mine. I hooked a leg over his hip, drawing him closer and he began to thrust faster. And yet it was still so… _gentle_. I had not expected that from him. The man who cursed like a sailor, with the hardness of a seasoned warrior…that he should be so compassionate, lamblike. It was a side of him I had never anticipated. 

It went on like this for only a few moments as he drew himself into the connection. Then he slowly started to go faster, to tense and push into me. I hooked both legs around him, bringing my hips up to meet his, thrust for thrust. 

“Josephine…” It was a moan; he was on the brink. 

“Yes, Blackwall.” I kissed his collar bone as his head went back and he shuddered, loosing rhythm as his face took on a new expression, a low, guttural sound coming from him. 

He collapsed on top of me, burying his face against my neck, breathing heavy, our hands locked together. I sighed against his skin, happily. 

After a few moments, he pulled out and away from me. 

“Thank you.” He whispered huskily. “I don’t know what you did…” he trailed off. 

“It was you.” I said, convincing him of his own imaginative powers as I reached for my clothes, pulling them over my head. I stood and he remained, naked on his bed, eyes distant. Content. “If you need anything else…” “I’m good for now.” He smiled softly. “I am good.” His eyes did not open when he spoke his last gratitude to me. I nodded, hoping I had helped, then left his quarters, making sure to take my plant cuttings with me. I did not want to have to go back for more. 

It was finally time for me to sleep, I thought groggily. I had helped everyone I could this evening. Derek was right; I needed to take some time for myself.


	9. Stirrings (alt. title: Brightside)

“What are you doing?” 

Cassandra’s voice startled me from my movement, causing me to lose balance and stumble over the series of movements mid-pose. I stared at her, blinking against the sudden disruption. She was standing only a few feet away, arms crossed, gaze intense. Having seen her a couple more times, I had come to realize that was just her face. The woman did not smile, to my knowledge. If ever there was someone I’d love to see laugh, it was her; to see her lion’s eyes light up, her lips curve into a smile…the worried scowl lift from her face. 

She needed relaxation. I just didn’t think she’d ever accept it from me. 

Which was why I was so surprised when she spoke to me. I straightened. 

“It’s called _Bat’Dansa_.” I said, blinking slowly. My eyes had been closed as I worked through the movements, and the sudden sunlight was a bit jarring. “It is one of the Cort’esa dances.” 

“It looks so violent.” 

“It is best performed with a partner also trained in Bat’Dansa, to look like a battle. It is a form of self-defence…” I shrugged, “when applied correctly.” Unfortunately, I had not practiced or applied it correctly in a few years. Being in Orlais had made me lazy. I was sure Derek would agree. I had not practiced things like the Bat’Dansa, though I had entertained a lot with my more provocative dances. My favourite of which was the belly dance. My most prized possession was my belly dancing dress, which my mother had handed down to me. It was wrapped in silk and tissue to protect it, stored in a water-tight box and never left my room. 

“So…it is a dance, but it is also combat?” 

“Bat’Dansa, the name, translates directly to ‘battle dance.’” I provided. One dark eyebrow quirked. 

“Show me.” It was a demand, softened only by her tone, which was less commanding and more intrigued. I inclined my head and dropped from a position of perfect posture to the beginning pose of the first series of movements; my left foot was thrown back behind me, angled, leg straight, my right leg in front, bent slightly. Arms were raised to the sides, wrists bent back and fingers semi-clawed. It was supposed to look feral, ready for attack. 

I slowly moved through the poses, feeling my muscles bunch and resist to movements I had not performed in quite some time. However, this was my third time going through the poses again, so I was feeling a bit more comfortable. 

I quickened my pace as I came to a part that was more familiar; one of my legs came back, a hand shooting the opposite way. I rotated on my bottom foot, swinging the other foot higher until my head was almost down completely to the ground, the other foot pointing straight up. Cassandra let out a small noise of admiration. I brought the foot down, bringing my torso back up to standing, a swirl of whirling skirts as I sped up the process until I reached the end of the series, back in the position I had begun in. 

“That was…remarkable!” She breathed, uncrossing her arms and leaning forward, taking a few steps towards me. The faintest idea of a smile ghosted across her lips, softening her hard expression. I smiled, breathing heavily from the exertion— _Goddess, when had this dance tired me so?_ —and bowed toward her. 

“I could teach you, if you wanted.” 

“I couldn’t possibly do that!” She shook her head. 

“I think you’d be surprised. Plus, the footwork could translate directly to the battle field. And,” I smiled at her, “I would love a sparring partner.” 

“I don’t know…” She shook her head again. “I am very busy.” 

“The offer will stand forever.” I said. I spotted Derek approaching our spot behind the tavern, ready for our swordplay lessons. “Oh, Derek!” Cassandra turned her head to see my companion approach. He looked a bit surprised to see her but bowed to her as he approached. 

“Lady Seeker.” He said formally. 

“Derek, do you remember any of Bat’Dansa?” On occasion, he and my mother had performed the combative dance at court. He stared between me and Cassandra, a puzzled look on his face. 

“Yes.” He said finally. I clapped my hands together. 

“Excellent. Will you help me show a series to Cassandra?” I asked, reaching toward him. “It will help with swordplay…” I coaxed. He sighed, putting the practice swords down. 

“Fine. One series.” 

“Derek learned this about a year after my mother and I fled our homeland. So he was not young when he learned. Which just goes to show that anyone can do it!” I encouraged. 

“Hey!” Derek glared at me. 

I shrugged and dropped into the ready position. He mirrored me and, after a few breaths, I made the first move. 

We started off slow. It was more of a dance that way; we pulled towards and away from one another, a slowed-down, mimed, rhythmic fight. Once we’d been moving for a couple moments, through a couple poses, feeding off each other’s moves, I started to speed it up. This took it from a dance to something more akin to a fight; he would lunge and I would duck or dodge. I would kick out and he would use my momentum to spin me. If it were a real fight, the moves would not be so controlled. That was the beauty of the dance. 

I sped it up again, and Derek’s brow was furrowed in concentration. He did a particularly difficult move, sending me past him in a whirl of my skirts. I repeated the movement that Cassandra had been so amused by the first time; I threw my leg backwards, towards where Derek had just been, then brought it upwards, swinging my torso beneath my extended leg like a pendulum, spinning on my bottom foot until I was facing Derek again. By that point, he’d finished his own move and we came together, face to face, as we finished the moves, dropping back into the starting position, our right legs crossed side-by-side, left legs thrown back, grasping each other by the wrist. 

“That was beautiful.” Cassandra spoke again. Derek and I stood, releasing one another’s forearms. 

“If you ever want to learn, just say the word.” I stated again. “And if you simply want to watch, I will be practicing here, every day.” That was my new goal, especially considering how tired I now was. 

“I shall…keep that in mind.” She said. 

“Now that that’s over with, shall we practice your swordplay?” Derek asked, approaching the blunted weapons that he’d brought. 

“You may not want to stick around for this.” I said, grinning, to Cassandra. “My Bat’Dansa is considerably better than my swordplay.” 

“Your Bat’Dansa is incomparable to your swordplay, your swordplay has so much improvement to be made.” Derek said mildly. I glared at him 

“That is my cue to leave, then.” Cassandra said, turning away. She hesitated. “You will be here tomorrow?” 

“Around the same time.” I confirmed. She nodded, then continued back to the keep. 

“Alright, no more fun and games.” Derek threw the weapon at my feet. “Translate that effort for the Bat’Dansa into your swordplay.” 

It started to grow colder over the following month, threatening snow. Derek reluctantly reduced the sword fighting lessons, since there was no other convenient place for us to practice and we were both not accustomed to the cold of the mountains, even after all this time. I started teaching Cassandra the Bat’Dansa within the privacy of the Inquisitor’s chambers, the only room frequently unoccupied and large enough for us to work in. 

“I told the Inquisitor I need the space to practice combat with you.” She admitted reluctantly. “I trust the secret will be kept. I just hope the Inquisitor believed me.” The alternative seemed to worry her. 

I had not had dealings with the Inquisitor, so I did not know what to expect, so far as trust went. But if Cassandra trusted the Inquisitor with her secret, then so be it. The secret would not get out through me. 

I had a few more encounters with soldiers and other members of the Inquisition; Solas and I took meetings regularly, educating one another on the finer points of our respective magics. He taught me about lyrium and I realised that lyrium withdrawal was what I had sensed in the Commander, the weeks before. The bard, Maryden, and I exchanged songs and poems. Sera showed up at my room one night, drunk—or, maybe sober, I couldn’t tell entirely, just that she smelled of booze—and kissed me, before rambling on for about ten minutes about how she was only in my room to see if I was as exciting as everyone was saying. She ended up spending the night with me and left the following day saying “I guess it’s alright.” Vivienne had apparently shared that I cured headaches, for I had a near constant stream of people suffering from headaches in my rooms on a daily basis, due to the pressure in the air that came over the mountains, bringing shifting winds and temperatures. Iron Bull came to my room intermittently, usually when he couldn’t find someone else to fuck, as he stated. After the third time, we needed to have my bed in my room fixed. And then, the next time, the table. Blackwall came to me once more, simply to take me in his arms and fall into bed with me, falling asleep almost instantly. Unlike Sera, he had very obviously been drunk. Varric and I played cards a lot, which usually ended up with one of us losing a bet of some kind. Usually, it involved coin, or a prank, or nudity. Or all three. 

So I was leery when he asked if I wanted to play a game of Wicked Grace with him and a few others one day when snow was beginning to fall and coat the surrounding keep. 

“I’m not sure, Varric. Last time you won, I had to steal Maryden’s lute and she was _not_ happy.” 

“No one ever said you had to give it back, Pearl.” He had taken to calling me Pearl after our first game, when I’d unfortunately lost all the hands…and all my clothes. Apparently it had to do with the colour of my skin and the fact that, like a pearl, I came from near the water. “It’s either that or Siren. And I haven’t heard you sing.” He had said when I’d asked. 

“Besides,” he added now, “you are probably a better player than everyone at the table so you won’t lose.” 

“Well then count me in.” If it meant someone else were to be embarrassed…how could I say no? 

I followed him to the table and found Josephine, Cullen, Mirren, an Orlesian nobelwoman—I was confused, too—one of the barmaids and Blackwall. Seeing Josephine and Blackwall together just made me sad. I wondered if I might not be able to put this to their advantage…if one of them lost, I could make them kiss or… 

Scheming, I took my seat, not paying attention to who I was sitting beside. 

“I…take it the plants worked for you?” Cullen asked and I turned my smile on him. 

“Yes. I actually need to get some more. One of my latest…patrons was his usual overzealous self and…well, I have a very large hand-print shaped bruise on my ass.” I said softly. If I was being honest, I was already a couple drinks in at this point; Varric had found me leaving the Herald’s Rest. Cullen cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed. 

“I…see.” 

“Uh oh.” Varric shuffled the cards. “Do we need to separate you two? Cullen already looks like he could pass for a tomato.” 

“Blame it on me.” Dorian said, entering. Clearly, he’d followed me. Or been invited. “I plied the Cort’esa with wine. I have it on good authority it makes her particularly naughty.” 

“Well, that might actually work in everyone else’s favour.” Varric said, dealing the cards. “Pearl is a pretty good player, but if she’s drunk…” He shook his head, grinning. “This might get interesting. Although if she’s going to be a distraction, that might turn out badly for everyone else anyways.” 

“Dorian, don’t you have somewhere to be?” I stuck my tongue out at the mage. He laughed. 

“Yes, actually. I have a rendez-vous with your bodyguard.” 

“If I lose, just know I will be taking you down with me.” I called after him. “Because it’ll be your fault!” 

I didn’t lose. 

“I knew this was a mistake.” 

Cullen, stark naked and red from the neck up, was adamantly refusing to look at me. Everyone else was all smiles. 

“What, Curly? Playing? Or losing?” 

“I should have learned the last time.” He said, voice heavy with resignation. “What will the soldiers think?” 

“Probably that they have a formidable captain and that he is brave to go running about in the cold with no clothes.” Josephine said, choking back laughter. The redness faded from Cullen’s face as he blanched. 

“Maker have mercy.” He groaned. “I forgot about the cold.” He stared at Varric. “Can I at least have my mantle? I’ll freeze out there?” 

Varric leaned back in his seat. 

“You can have your cloak back,” he began. Cullen made to lunge for the clothes in question, at Varric’s hand. The dwarf plucked it away, “on one condition.” 

“What?” Cullen’s voice was pained. “I swear, if it involves me reading your romance book out loud to the barracks—" 

“That is actually not a horrible idea…” Varric shook his head. “No, I want something with immediate…enjoyment. For us, not you.” He leaned forward, steepling his fingers in front of him. He looked like he was enjoying himself entirely too much. “You must kiss one person at this table. Of your choice. And not me. Because…well, because I’m the boss.” 

Cullen’s mouth opened and closed but no sound came out. Josephine looked aghast, as did Blackwall. The Orlesian noblewoman, to her credit, looked intrigued. 

“But…I’m _naked_.” 

“We’re well aware of that.” Varric grinned evilly. 

“What…if they don’t want to?” 

“Then pick someone who will.” Varric leaned back. “Or no furr. And you have to make that long walk back to your room with no clothes.” He reached for his drink. “And remember, Curly, it’s cold out there. And you’re _naked_. Decide quick. Or I’ll pick.” The evil look returned. 

Cullen looked desperately around, stalling. He clearly did not want to kiss anyone else at the table, the only women being myself, Josephine and the noblewoman who, I was quite positive, was married. I cleared my throat and whispered to him. 

“Cullen, there is one person at the table whom you could kiss without making things awkward.” He stiffened and turned to Varric. 

“What kind of kiss? And how long? Andraste, this is so juvenile.” 

“That’s what makes it fun.” Blackwall interjected. 

“Thirty-seconds. Mouths open.” Varric was clearly enjoying himself. I tried to remember how much he had had to drink. Cullen nodded and turned to me. 

“I’m deeply sorry. You are the only alternative.” 

“You’re making things much worse for yourself.” Varric laughed. “Just get it over with. Or I’ll change my mind.” 

Cullen took a deep breath and leaned towards me. I copied him, watching him close his eyes. _His eyelashes are so long,_ I thought to myself as I closed my own eyes and our mouths met. 

I was distantly aware that Varric was counting down from thirty, but my focus was on the kiss. 

It was _electrifying._

Cullen’s lips were soft on mine, parted slightly. The taste of his breath on my lips pushed me, and I responded— _enthusiastically_ —to the kiss. My lips moved against his, and I leaned into the kiss. I expected him to pull away, to draw back and make the kiss less intense but… 

He kissed me back. Hard. His hand came up around the back of my neck, pulling me closer. The tip of his tongue teased mine, and I felt my heart give a small lurch. 

_Don’t stop_. I willed it. 

Varric had stopped counting, I realized with a start, as giggling began around the table. My eyes flew open and I pulled away, breaking contact. My heart was pounding. 

“I’m sorry.” I said, pushing my chair back, hard, sending it toppling over. I didn’t fix it. Instead I fled the room, down the stairs and into the cold, leaving the table in stunned silence behind me. 

“No.” I hissed to myself, my feet leaving small prints in the snow. “No no no no _no_!” The words came out louder the farther I got from the room, until I was in the open courtyard, the snow falling on my shoulders. I realised belatedly that I had left my cloak in the room, on my toppled chair. I stared up at the sky, the snowflakes feeling shockingly cold as they fell against my flushed skin. “It was only a kiss.” I murmured to the clouds. I pressed my hand over my heart. “It was _only_ a kiss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive my horrid joke, please.


	10. Hurt

I awoke the next morning, unsure why I had such a feeling of dread. Then the previous evening’s events came flooding back to me. My stomach dropped and I buried my head in my pillow. 

“No.” I moaned into my pillow. 

I refused to admit what I had suspected last night. I would not voice my concerns, my suspicions. If I didn’t say it out loud, it wasn’t true. That was what I adamantly clung to. 

A knock came at my door. I jerked my head up. It must be Derek. 

I was wearing only a thin nightgown that left very little to the imagination, as see-through as it was. I went to reach for my cloak to drape it around my shoulders when I remembered I had left it behind the night before. I’d have to see if any of the others had grabbed it or if it had been left. I strode to the door, jerking it open. 

“Derek, last night something terrible happened—" 

Cullen was standing there. I froze, hardly breathing. 

“I…brought you your cloak. You left it at the card game.” He said, looking surprised and then, seeing that I was practically naked, awkward. He thrust the cloak forward, averting his gaze from my form. 

“Thank you.” I took the cloak. He stood awkwardly at the door. 

“About last night—” 

“Thanks for the cloak.” I repeated, and closed my door, pressing my back against it, clutching my cloak to my chest and sinking to the floor. 

_No._

I dressed and went to breakfast. I must have looked miserable, for Derek tried to cheer me up. It didn’t work. Eventually, he gave up, speaking to others around us. 

The snow from the night before had already melted by mid-morning. Everyone was talking about False winter, when the temperature would drop and snow would fall, but then when everyone expected winter to begin, it would go back to fall temperatures. That seemed to be the case here; it got steadily warmer throughout the day. 

I wanted to ask Derek for help, but I also didn’t want him to know I’d developed feelings for someone. It was so _unlike_ me. I was twenty-six and had never been in love. Things weren’t supposed to change. I enjoyed my life. I enjoyed meeting people, helping them. I didn’t want that to stop… 

I stood abruptly from the table and bade my dining companions farewell. 

I didn’t want to be around people today. 

I made my way to my room, stopping at the library for a moment to get a book, travelling quickly so as not to be seen or stopped by anyone. Once back in my room, I curled up in bed with my book and read for a while. After an hour or so, a knock came at the door. I looked up, closed my book and put it down on the bed, before striding to the door. I had no idea who it could be, but I wasn’t in the mood for entertaining. 

I opened it to see Pierrot, one of the Orlesian noblemen who had come to Skyhold recently. 

“Cort’esa, you ‘ave forgotten our game?” He asked, his voice heavily accented. I smiled, opening the door wider to invite him in. 

“My deepest apologies, Pierrot.” I was quite sure that was not his real name. “I lost track of the time.” 

He entered the room and made his way across the room to my small table—repaired now—and sat himself down. He pulled out a small bottle and two small glasses from his jacket, setting them on the table. 

“It is unlike you, Cort’esa, to forget things like a rendez-vous with a patron.” He said, eyeing me through his mask. I smiled sadly. 

“I’m afraid I’ve not been myself, lately. Hopefully a game with you might help me return to normal.” It was all I offered by way of reply. I had a job to do, and it was best not dwell on my personal problems. I joined him at the table and he poured me a drink. 

“The whiskey I promised.” He purred. “It is truly…delicious.” I took the glass, swirling the amber liquid before taking a small sip, letting it burn through my throat and mouth and chest. I closed my eyes in enjoyment. 

“This is exquisite.” I said, a smile on my lips. “Thank you.” 

“Shall we begin the game?” He asked, pulling out a deck of cards and some small wooden pieces. 

“Please, let’s.” 

It was an Orlesian game. Pierrot had been thrilled to find I knew how to play it when we’d met; he’d been lamenting the fact that there was so little to do in Skyhold. I was quite positive he did not return to Orlais simply so that he could be at the scene of the action. So, we met every other day to play the Orlesian game, and that was it. Or, _mostly_ it. He also brought my expensive alcohols and told me the latest gossip of Val Royeaux. Due to my experience in the salons there, I knew most of who he spoke about, and therefore knew what to say and how to react to certain tidbits of information. 

“You must be joking!” I exclaimed. “She’s pregnant again?” 

Pierrot nodded, grinning mischievously. “Certainly. The only thing uncertain…” he took another sip of his whiskey, savouring it, “is who the father is. This time around.” 

I laughed, shaking my head. “What about her husband?” 

“Oh, ‘e’s still carrying on ‘is dalliance with that Vicomptesse…the one with the very large breasts.” 

“Ah, Vicomptesse Larange. Is her husband still missing?” 

“They finally found ‘is body. It appears as if ‘e was killed a few weeks ago.” 

“Oh goodness! Not by her?” 

“No, no. It appears as if it were a duel.” 

We continued talking about the intricacies of the Orlesian Courts, sipping whiskey and playing our game. After a few rounds, Pierrot stood. 

“I shall see you the day after tomorrow, Cort’esa. Don’t forget, this time.” He smiled beneath the mask and I stood as well, seeing him to the door. He kissed me chastely on the cheek as I saw him out. 

“Farewell, Pierrot. I will not forget our next rendez-vous.” 

I busied myself in my room, book forgotten, and decided to check my herb supplies. I was running low on the river plants I took from the water front; my bruise poultice was incredibly popular, especially among the kitchen hands, as the head cook was liberal with the switch. I bit my lip. I’d need to get permission to leave again. 

“Josephine.” I decided. Josephine wouldn’t say no to my request, I was sure. I could likely ask Leliana, but she was ever so slightly farther away. And Josephine was, to put it mildly, warmer. I could even possibly approach the Inquisitor but I did not want to lay trivial matters on the Herald’s mind. So Josephine it was. 

I sought her out in her office, where she was poring over reports and missives, a fire crackling merrily in her hearth. She looked up as I entered. 

“Ah, Cort’esa. What can I help you with?” 

I bowed my head to her respectfully. “Lady Montilyet, I was wondering if I might not be able to get permission to go down to the water front, just beyond the walls this evening? I need to collect some herbs.” 

She looked surprised. “I did not know you were an alchemist, Cort’esa.” 

“Not a skilled one.” I shook my head, laughing. “I know only a few useful poultices.” 

“I take it they are herbs not usually stocked by our alchemist?” 

I shook my head. “Oh, they are, but I like mine to be fresher. I have a way of preparing them and preserving them.” 

She hesitated, tapping her quill on her lip. “I shall ensure that the night watchmen and guards know you have permission to leave. Just make sure you do not go far.” 

“I would not dare. Thank you, Lady Montilyet.” 

“Not a problem. Is there anything else?” 

“No, thank you. I have everything else I need here.” 

“Very good. And Cort’esa…I hear you are doing great things.” She smiled, blushing a bit. “I only mean that…people are glad you are here.” I bowed again, smiling and then left. 

As the day dragged on, I practiced my Bat’Dansa—Cassandra was too busy to join—went and spoke with Solas, ate, and got a new book from the library, having finished the other one I’d taken that morning. 

I read until sunset, cozy in the library. I hadn’t planned to stay there, but I enjoyed the quiet solemnity of the tower. Plus, it was warm. And full of books. Plus, while I didn’t want to be around people, the quiet murmurings of conversation that drifted through the tower were soothing and welcoming. 

Once the sun went down, I retired to my room, changing into slightly warmer clothes to go down to the river front. It was very cold at night, and I was extremely sensitive to the chillier weather. I wrapped myself in my cloak and fur mantle, taking my small knives and a basket down to the front gate. True to her word, Josephine had clearly told them I’d be leaving, for the guards let me pass with no question, simply reminding me to stay close. I nodded, smiled, and carried on through the gate. 

I followed the treacherous path down to the waters edge. Just before reaching the end, however, I looked up from my footing and saw a familiar figure standing on the banks. 

I slipped. 

Cullen turned as I tripped down the last few steps, feeling a sharp pain in my ankle as I crashed against one of the larger rocks at the base of the stairs. 

“Reina!” He rushed to my side. “Are you alright?” He crouched beside me. 

“Yes, I ah…I fell.” I said lamely. “I hadn’t expected to see you.” I bit my lip. 

“I couldn’t sleep.” He said with a half-hearted smile. “I…considered asking you for help again.” 

“Oh.” I nodded. “I…could probably do that.” 

“Really? You seemed to be avoiding me.” 

“I would not deny a direct request.” I said, averting my eyes. “That is not my duty” 

“I see.” He sounded hurt. He stood, offering me a hand up. I stood and immediately fell against him, my left ankle not supporting my weight. “You’re hurt.” He stated. From my position, pressed against his chest, I looked up into his eyes. 

“It’s just my ankle…I’m sure I can manage.” 

“Nonsense.” He frowned. “I’ll take you to your room and send someone to check on you.” 

“Really, I can make it to the healers on my own.” I pushed off his chest. His hands still clutched my arms. Which was good since as soon as I was up and shifted my weight, I staggered again. 

”It does not appear that you’ll make it.” He said, smiling gently. “Let me help you.” 

“Fine.” I obliged, and he scooped me up. I had not expected that; I had expected him to simply help me hop or hobble up the stairs. I let out a small noise and he started to climb the stairs. “Aren’t you worried about falling?” I asked. 

He shook his head. “I’ve come down these stairs every night for the past month. I know them, now.” 

“Why?” I asked. “Just to get a break?” 

“Actually…I was hoping to run into you.” He did not look at me. I stared at him. 

“Cullen…” 

“That first night when I saw you here, you said it seemed like I didn’t want to touch you. The truth is…I’m terrified that if I touch you, I wouldn’t stop. Since I first saw you…” He finally looked at me. His eyes were bright in the moonlight. “I’ve craved you. And then, that night with the kiss.” He smiled sadly. “I should not have picked you. From the moment our lips touched I knew I was doomed.” He sighed, looking away. 

“Cullen, it can never happen.” I said sullenly as we reached the top of the steps. He looked sharply at me. 

“Why not? You are free with your time towards others—” 

“I don’t have feelings for the others!” I snapped. Then closed my mouth as he stared at me, eyes wide with surprise. I tried to explain. “I don’t have feelings for the others, so it is easy for me to detach. I know what they need, and I provide it. With you…I am selfish. I _want_ things from you. And that’s not who I’m supposed to be.”

He’d stopped, just out of earshot of the guards. He set me down, supporting my waist so I would not fall again. 

“Reina, I—” 

“Clara.” I said loudly. The guard at the gate approached. “Clara, could you please escort me to the healers. I hurt my ankle.” 

Clara looked from me to the Commander, who was staring at me, brow furrowed. He nodded. 

“If that’s what you want.” He said. “I will remain here until Clara returns.” 

“It’s for the best.” I said. 

Clara slipped an arm under my back and I slid my own across her shoulders. She helped me hobble away, supporting my weight. I did not turn back but felt Cullen’s eyes on me the whole time. 


	11. Much Rum for Reina

I managed to avoid everyone the next day. I had a few regular patrons who came to see me, to talk, to relax…but anyone who wanted anything more, something physical, I turned away. I blamed it on my ankle; the healers had mostly patched me up, and while I could have healed myself the rest of the way, I did not want to be ready for duty yet. I was wallowing. I knew it was foolish and immature, but I also felt like I had gone twenty-six years without wallowing over love, so it was about time. 

The following day, only Pierrot returned; we played our game and gossiped and that was it for socializing. I rarely left my room, instead letting others come to me. Derek seemed worried, especially after a few days of this. I simply told him I suspected I was getting sick. He made sure I got enough to eat and kept asking if I was alright. I finally grew tired of his mothering. 

“I’m fine Derek, alright!” I snapped. 

He raised his eyebrows at me, concern and amazement reading in his blue eyes, and I immediately felt ashamed. 

“By the fact you just shouted at me, I know you’re not. You never raise your voice.” 

I sighed, defeated, miserable. 

“It’s nothing.” I turned away from him, crossing my arms and staring into the hearth, effectively cutting him off. 

“Well…when you want to talk about it, come see me.” He said finally, resigned, leaving me in my room. I heard him close the door behind me and I sighed, letting my shoulders fall from their defensive position around my ears. 

Things were just getting better; not only was I mad at myself for letting myself develop feelings—and not even for a patron!—but now I was effectively pushing away my only true confidante in Skyhold, the only one who knew everything about me. Normally, Derek would have stayed and coaxed me into confiding in him, but he’d just _left_. 

I turned and threw myself on my bed, frustrated, throwing an arm over my face. 

I must have fallen asleep, despite it only having been mid-afternoon, for a knock at the door woke me. Expecting it was Derek coming back to check on me, I was surprised to find Dorian when I drew aside the door. 

“Derek says you need cheering up. I told him I’d help.” He pointed at me. “Put on something you haven’t been wearing the past two days and meet me at the Herald’s Rest.” 

“Dorian—” My voice was heavy with warning. 

“See you in the tavern. If you don’t come, you’ll regret it.” He said, closing the door behind him with a wide grin. 

“ _Bastard_.” I hissed under my breath. I did as I was told, though, if only to go tell Dorian that I didn’t need cheering up and that I did not take well to being ordered about like a child. I thought this all while dressing into new, clean garments that weren’t wrinkled, though they were simple; a white tunic with a black bodice and red skirt. I even pulled some of my hair back into a twist from my temples. I looked—and felt—better than I had in a few days. 

I made my way to the tavern, practically marching across the courtyards, and found Dorian waiting within the tavern with not a bottle of wine, but rum. I grabbed the bottle, took a swig, and slammed it back down. His eyebrows were almost into his hairline. 

“Goodness, you _are_ in a mood.” I glared at him and reached for the bottle again. He pulled it out of my reach. “Ah ah.” He waggled a finger at me. “Not yes, missy. First, you have to tell uncle Dorian what’s got your knickers in a twist.” 

“Will you tell Derek?” I demanded, hands braced against the table. Dorian shrugged. 

“I haven’t decided.” 

Realizing it didn’t matter, that I didn’t particularly care anymore, I threw myself into the chair. I pointedly avoided looking at Dorian, instead rubbing my hands over my face, as if scrubbing away at my skin might scrub away my feelings. 

“Dorian, I have feelings for someone.” 

“Ah! I should have known!” He slid me the bottle. “If there’s ever a reason to drink, it’s love.” I did so, taking a swallow. This rum was smooth, probably meant for sipping. I took another swig as he asked “So, who is the lucky man?” 

“None of your goddess-damned business.” I retorted. He made a _tsk_ ing noise. 

“Oh, come now. Is that any way to treat a friend?” Despite how rude I was being, he seemed more jovial than was necessary. I was not pleased that he was finding amusement at my misfortune. 

“It doesn’t matter who it is, because I can’t be with them. Not _just_ them. That’s not who I am.” I sighed, shaking my head. I drummed my nails along the side of the rum bottle, and then took another sip, rolling my little finger around the mouth of the bottle. 

“You see, that’s the funny thing about people.” He leaned back in his chair. “People can change. It’s a remarkable trait, really.” 

“Oh, shut up.” I snarled. This only seemed to amuse him more and he cackled before his next words. 

“Rum makes you very rude. Oh, how I do enjoy learning your alcohol triggers! Wine for naughty, rum for anger…perhaps we should try ale next.” He looked distantly towards Cabot. 

“This isn’t a game!” I snapped, slamming my hand on the table. Dorian turned his eyes on me, and appeared significantly less surprised or frightened by my outburst than I had wanted. 

“You’re the only one who doesn’t seem to realize that things are never that serious.” Dorian said, running a thumb over his moustache, watching me with a speculative gaze. 

“Easy for you to say. You can love whoever you want.” I stood, taking the bottle. I was ready to leave, sick of Dorian’s teasing. 

“There was a time I couldn’t.” He raised an eyebrow at me, letting the word sink in. He leaned forward in his chair, arms crossed. “Did Derek tell you about my father?” 

I hesitated. I sat back down. I took a drink. Dorian uncrossed his arms and steepled his fingers, a wry smile on his face as he opened his mouth to speak. 

“My father was not quite pleased about my… _lifestyle choices_. He tried to have me fixed, to marry me off to a woman…” He shrugged, the wry smile still ghosting his lips. “So, I came to realize that if your feelings are at stake, you need to take charge. You need to be selfish sometimes. And trust me, I get it. Having to _be_ a certain way. But Reina, this isn’t Vermahna. You can be who you want here. The only one putting expectations on you, is you.” 

I took another sip of alcohol, frowning at him with a pout. 

“I don’t know how to be selfish. Or to be anything other than what I was raised to be. I spent thirteen years being trained to be a Cort’esa here in Orlais…my entire life has revolved around it.” 

“Well, as I so helpfully pointed out before, people can change. It’s not too late.” He stood, leaning heavily on the table. “Now, I believe that it is a good time to start getting absolutely smashed. Though, I believe you have a head start.” He reached for the bottle. I jerked it away from him, the liquour sloshing inside the dark bottle. He frowned at me. “Reina, if you drink all that to yourself, you’ll be sick.” 

“You are grossly underestimating my ability to hold liquor.” I said, lifting my chin defiantly. 

“No, I think you are _overestimating_ yourself. When was the last time you ate?” He asked. I shrugged. He reached for the bottle, this time grabbing it easily. I reached after him, hands falling short of the mark. “Maker’s name, girl! You drank almost half.” 

_Had I?_ I looked up at him and tried to get the bottle again, almost falling out of my chair. Dorian shook his head. “On second thought, maybe you don’t need anything more. Rum not only makes you angry, it apparently also goes straight to your head.” He turned away and I glared after him. 

“Yeah, well…I’ve probably had more sex with Iron Bull than you did!” 

Eyes turned toward me, and conversation got quiet at my outburst. Dorian turned back, gave me an amused look, then took something from Cabot, the barkeep, who was looking at me like he might just be ready to kick me out. I did not even try to pretend to be ashamed of my outburst. If anyone had a problem with it, they could keep it to themselves. 

“Dorian, _why_ is the Cort’esa shouting about riding the Bull?” the aforementioned qunari approached, leaning against the wall as Dorian returned. Dorian thrust a drink into my hands, and I brought it to my mouth greedily. To my displeasure, it was water. 

“Ew.” I said, slamming it down on the table and sliding it away from me. Dorian sighed, pushing it back toward me. 

“Drink it.” 

“Is she _drunk_?” Iron Bull asked, one part incredulous, one part amused. Dorian rolled his eyes at the qunari. 

“Yes, and it’s not nearly as fun as I thought it would be.” He sighed, sitting back down across from me. He looked up to the qunari. “Do you want to look after her?” 

“ _Fuck_ no.” Iron Bull turned away. “You got her drunk, you get to deal with her. Though I will admit it’s amusing to watch.” 

“You really are terrible.” Dorian called after him. 

“You know it.” Iron Bull said with a cheeky grin over his shoulder, returning to his seat across the tavern. “I’ll see you later. We can make sure you’re caught up to the Cort’esa here.” 

Dorian laughed, turning back to me, grinning and shaking his head in amusement. I eyeballed him, my drink-adled brain taking longer to process words than usual. My look turned into an annoyed glare. 

“You’re cheating on Derek.” I accused. He sat, pushing the water closer to me again; I had pushed it away when Iron Bull had left us. 

“No. Derek and I aren’t exclusive. He knows that. That’s what happens when adults talk about their relationships.” 

“Fuck you.” 

Dorian laughed loudly. “Oh-ho! What wildly inappropriate language. And here, I thought we were getting along so well.” He nudged the water closer. I wrapped my arm around the tankard, tucking it into the crook of my elbow before settling my head onto my opposite arm. 

“Dorian…what do I do?” My eyes were heavy, as was my heart. I was tired and angry and I just wanted to sleep… 

“Talk to the object of your affection.” He said easily. “See how he feels…” 

I fell asleep as he continued to talk. 

I woke a very short while later at the table, my back and neck stiff. Dorian was chatting with Iron Bull. Someone had draped a cloak over my shoulders but hadn’t moved me. It wasn’t too much later, as the moonlight filtering through the windows was not too changed, but I imagined I’d been asleep for about half an hour. My brain was still fuzzy with drink, but I wasn’t quite so angry anymore. 

I remembered Dorians’ last words. 

_“Talk to the object of your affection.”_

Of course! I needed to tell Cullen, once and for all, that I liked him and needed to get him out of my head. I wasn’t entirely sure how, yet—the rum was still slowing my thoughts—but I was sure I’d figure it out when I saw him. And there was no time like the present, of course. I stood, wobbly, pulling my cloak tighter around my shoulders with clumsy fingers. I pushed my hair—coming astray from the twist—away from my face and straightened. 

I needed to tell Cullen just how much I liked him— _no!_ No, I would tell him that I was _mad_ at him! Perhaps if we fought, I might see a different side of him and stop liking him. It was a brilliant plan to my inebriated mind. 

That thought firmly in my brain, I exited the tavern, stormed through the courtyard to the stairs to the ramparts leading to Cullen’s quarters. I almost tripped over my cloak on the bottom step, so I shrugged it off, letting it pool onto the ground. My hair was not the only thing in a drunken disarray; my loose top had shifted on my shoulders, dropping low across the tops of my breasts. I was hot despite the brisk air and it felt glorious on my flushed skin. I leaned heavily on the stone limning the stairs until I emerged, staggering, on the ramparts. A soldier on guard turned to me, but I shrugged away from her and turned to Cullen’s door. I started pounding on the door; he was probably asleep, I thought distantly, as I banged on the door with both my fists. I added my voice to the noise. 

“Commander Cullen! Face me!” I continued to bang on the door, half-slumped against it. A couple soldiers from the ramparts looked over, the woman who’d approached me as I’d erupted onto the ramparts looking completely lost, shrugging to her comrades. I didn’t care. Let them stare. 

Eventually, the door was pulled open and Cullen was standing there, golden hair messy from sleep, eyes heavy. He was wearing a pair of breeches and nothing else, and he’d clearly just pulled those on to answer the door, since he was just lacing them. He seemed shocked to see me, when he registered who had awoken him at this hour. 

“Cort’esa, I—” 

I pushed past him, teetering into the room. He stood awkwardly by the entrance, as if keeping it open might invite me to leave. I turned on him. 

“Why did you have to kiss me?” Everything I had been planning to say disappeared in an instant. I pouted at him. To my displeasure, I was feeling weepy. That was not supposed to happen! I was supposed to march in here, and demand that he get out of my mind. 

“You…told me to.” He said, shutting the door and gaping at me. He crossed his arms over his chest. 

“I know!” I retorted, mad that he was outsmarting me after having already lost the battle with my fury. “It was stupid…I just wanted to help…” I felt small and foolish. “And now everything is ruined because of it.” I turned away, facing away from him, swallowing back the tears that threatened my eyes. 

“What do you mean?” He asked. I could hear he had taken a step or two towards me. I turned on him, my anger returning as I glared at him. 

“I _like_ you. A _lot_. And I don’t know what to do about it.” I blinked angry tears away. 

This seemed to freeze him. 

“Reina, I—” 

I took a few steps towards him—albeit, wobbly, stumbly ones—and wrapped my arms around his neck. His skin was hot on mine, making me feel like I was touching live fire. I stroked a hand down his arm, following it with my eyes. He erupted in gooseflesh where my fingers trailed. 

“I need to go to bed with you, to get you out of my head.” I murmured into the space between us. His arms came up to my hips and he tried to gently push me away. 

“You stink of the tavern. You wouldn’t be saying this if you were sober.” He seemed to be trying to convince himself, more than me. 

“I like you. You like me…everyone likes me. Or at least wants to fuck me. Take me up to your bed and let me show you what you’ve been missing out on.” I tried to kiss him, but he turned his head. I kissed along his neck, my hands dropping from his arms to the pants he’d just pulled on. I fumbled with the laces, and his hands went to my wrists. 

“Reina, _stop it_.” His voice was hoarse but fierce. I met his eyes and was shocked to find my eyes stinging again. I blinked angry, hurt tears out of my eyes. 

“Why? Do you not want me? I could make you happy…and then I can get you out of my mind.” I lamented. I tried to kiss him again. He brought my hands up, caught in his own, using them as a shield between us. 

“Reina, I’m taking you back to your room.” 

“Good, I don’t think I could climb that ladder…” I said, feeling relieved. “And my bed is probably more comfortable. Although…we don’t have to do it on the bed.” I purred huskily. Or, rather drunkenly. “I have some very warm rugs…you could take me on the floor…” 

Cullen released my hands and turned to the door, where a cloak hung on a peg in the wall. I staggered from the sudden lack of support, catching myself with legs braced wide. I moved toward him, pressing the length of my body against his back as he pulled the cloak off its hanging place. I wrapped my arms around his chest—his warm, broad chest, sprinkled with more golden hair than I had anticipated—and kissed his back. His muscles bunched and moved beneath my lips as he tried to gently extract himself from my grip again. 

“Reina…” he sighed. “Let me put on my cloak.” He sounded exasperated. I hummed against the softness of his spine, peppering him with more kisses. 

“You’re so warm…” I giggled. Why was that so funny? I pulled away as he draped the cloak over his mostly naked form. “Why are you putting on _more_ clothes?” I shook my head, which only succeeded in making my dizzy. I pressed my hands to the sides of my head to stop the spinning. 

“Let’s get you to bed.” He said, shaking his head. I giggled again and reached for him. 

“I knew I could convince you.” I misjudged the distance between us, and stumbled, almost falling. Cullen caught me and stabilized me. 

“Where is your cloak?” He asked. “You didn’t go out without a cloak?” I shook my head. 

“Outside.” My eyes weren’t staying open anymore and the dizziness wasn’t going away. Cullen held me up as I slumped. He guided me to the door. 

“You really are a handful.” He said as he pulled open the door, struggling to hold me up and manoeuvre me outside at the same time. 

“I bet _you’re_ a handful.” I said loudly, reaching for his crotch. He guided my hand over his shoulder and scooped me up into his arms. I let out a little _woop_ and heard a laugh, but not from Cullen. 

“Dorian, is this your doing?” The rumble of Cullen’s voice vibrated through his chest to my body. I glanced to the bottom of the stairs, where the mustached villain stood, looking not nearly as guilty as he should. He threw up his hands, smiling almost sheepishly, for Dorian. 

“Guilty as charged. To be fair, though, I had not expected her to wake up before I had a chance to have her taken to her room. I thought she’d sleep it off. It appears that rum is not too kind to her.” He bent down to pick my cloak off the steps as Cullen approached. He placed the cloak on my stomach as Cullen reached him. “Is she giving you a hard time?” He asked. Cullen sighed, and opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off before he had the chance to speak. 

“He _should_ be giving me a hard time.” I murmured against Cullen’s skin, letting my head fall to his shoulder. Dorian cackled. 

“This is even better than when she was cussing mad. Do you want me to take her off your hands?” 

Cullen shook his head. “I can handle her.” 

I murmured something about him handling me, which just set Dorian to laughing again. 

“Well, if you’re sure, I’m going to get back to my room for my own entertainment.” As he turned and walked away, Cullen grumbled. 

“Why is everyone so _obsessed_ with sex?” 

Half-conscious, I don’t think he expected me to answer, the question being a rhetorical one. I shifted in his arms. “Because it feels nice. And it’s stress relief.” I breathed against his skin. He smelled nice, and I told him as much; musky but clean. 

“Better than smelling like the tavern, I guess.” He cut across the yard and made his way up the stairs. 

“That was mean Cullen. I bet you’d still smell sexy.” I kissed him on the shoulder, where his cloak had slid away to reveal skin, tasting him on my lips. He chuckled, more so of exasperation than any real amusement, I was sure, and then sucked in a small breath. 

Once at my door, he put me down gently, leaning me against the wall again as he tried the handle. 

It was locked. “Where is the key?” He asked, vexed. I fumbled in my pocket and pulled out the object in question. He made to take it from me, but I snatched it back, frowning at him with bleary, heavily lidded eyes. 

“I can do it!” 

He rolled his eyes and held his hands up in a sort of surrender as I pushed off the wall unsuccessfully, stumbling into him. “Oops.” I mumbled happily. He supported me as I put the key in the lock and twisted. He opened the door and I fell inside, barely keeping myself upright. Cullen stood on the threshold. 

“Come in.” I told him, throwing myself on my bed, turning to give him a seductive look. 

“Goodnight, Reina. Go to sleep.” 

“Please?” I rolled over, pouting at him, my dress hiked up around my thighs, showing off my long legs. He stared at me, a hesitant smile on his lips. I couldn’t read it; was he amused? Or annoyed? 

“Goodnight.” He closed the door. 

“Rude…” I mumbled, rolling over again and falling asleep almost instantly.


	12. Unanticipated

I awoke and immediately regretted my life choices from the evening before. Immensely. 

My head pounded and my stomach felt queasy. I kept my eyes shut, not wanting to open them to any sort of light. Even through my closed eyelids, the faint sunlight that filtered into my rooms was like stabbing knives into my eyes. I groaned, curling around myself while also trying not to jostly myself too much and upset my roiling stomach. 

I could have happily died right then. Especially when I started remembering the details of the night before. 

My eyes flew open. 

“No.” It couldn’t be true. I had _not_ tried to seduce Cullen, drunk out of my tree. That was _not_ who I was. 

But alas, my memory was good, despite the hangover. It was true. I remembered all the dirty comments, the reaching hands…the smell and taste of his skin. And the feel of his chest and his arms around me as he had carried me to my room. How he had not simply passed me off to Dorian was beyond me. Goddess knew he deserved it, plying me with rum as he had. 

“Goddess, forgive me.” I murmured. I sat up in bed, my head reeling. Letting my stomach settle, I decided I needed to make myself some kind of tea. I hadn’t yet visited the garden in the upper courtyard, but I was pretty sure someone had mentioned there were alchemical herbs there for harvesting, as needed. I decided that would be my first stop; it was close, and I was sure that there’d be something to help me. 

I threw on my cloak and pulled the hood up all the way to block out at much light as possible. Still, when I left my room, the late morning sun was high and bright. I squinted, my eyes rebelling against the pain. 

I walked slowly, breathing steadily through my mouth, choosing to go through the keep as much as possible, where it was darker, cooler. I made it to the main chamber when I heard my name called. Or, rather, my nickname. 

“Pearl.” I glanced over to Varric, not moving my head too quickly. Did I want to approach? I couldn’t really deny him, so I heeded his beckoning. “Heard you had a wild night last night.” He said, turning away from the hearth to smile at me. I blanched, freezing in my tracks. 

“What do you mean?” Dread began to fill me. 

“Word travels quick here, Pearl. Nothing stays secret for long. Especially not when Dorian is involved.” He watched me, amused, gauging my reaction. 

“Well, Dorian is not going to be alive much longer to spread rumours.” I smiled sweetly. “I suspect he’s going to meet an untimely end very, very soon.” 

Varric laughed. “I don’t think Iron Bull or Derek would take kindly to that. Or the Inquisitor, for that matter.” 

I sighed, running a hand through my tangled hair, long since escaped its twist. “What did Dorian say?” 

“That you got drunk and then tried to seduce the ever-noble Commander Cullen. Who turned you down.” The last part was said with blunt amusement. 

I closed my eyes. “Does… _everyone_ know?” 

“Oh, I’d say just about.” 

“Varric…please shoot me.” 

“Sorry, Pearl. I’m afraid I’d regret it later.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the bricks by the heart. “Mostly, I want to see how this plays out.” 

“You are an _evil_ dwarf.” I hissed. 

He chuckled. “I wouldn’t say evil. I just really like a good story.” 

Everywhere I turned, I felt like eyes were on me. I was mortified; how could I have done such a thing? That was not who I was. Cort’esa Reina did not get drunk and run around trying to seduce people. My mother would be turning over in her grave; I was supposed to be a beacon of stability, professionalism…not a drunken whore who tried to fuck anything and everything. 

I got my plant clippings fast from the garden, returning rapidly to my room, where I set water over my fire to boil, and made myself some tea. After drinking it, I floated around my room for a while, listless and restless, until I rolled into bed and fell asleep, miserable. 

When I awoke, I felt better physically, but was still so embarrassed I could have died, right then and there. I lay in bed for a while, staring at the canopy of my bed. The sun was setting, which was good; I wanted this day to be over. Perhaps then the debacle involving Cullen would be forgotten… 

I sat up in bed. 

I _had_ to apologize. 

_Not now,_ I told myself. _Maybe tomorrow._ I couldn’t possibly face Cullen today—hell, I didn’t want to face anyone—but tomorrow I could tell him that it was all just a misunderstanding, I was sorry to have made him uncomfortable, and then just go back to avoiding him. 

Yes, that was what I would do. 

Decided, I stood and made myself another cup of tea, drank it, and debated going to the mess hall. I hadn’t eaten since the day before and I was famished. It was a bit after the regular time everyone usually ate, so I suspected the hall would be quieter than usual. But did I really want to risk it? I didn’t want to show my face... 

My stomach grumbled, interrupting my train of thought and my mind was made up. With a sigh, I left my room for the second time, hood high again—maybe I wouldn’t be recognized?—and made my way to the mess hall. I still felt eyes on me as I scarfed down my food, though it might have been paranoia. Still, I did not linger after eating, fleeing back to the sanctuary of my rooms. 

Back in my room, I changed, and wondered if I might be able to summon up enough courage to ask one of the attendants to set up a bath, when there was a knock at the door. 

I hesitated; who could it be? I hoped it wasn’t Derek, as he’d probably scold me; there was no way he hadn’t heard about the news circulating the keep. Dorian would just tease me…but both would be better than Cullen…though why he’d come seek me out after what I’d put him through was unfathomable. 

I opened the door with a sigh and found Iron Bull staring down at me. 

“Oh good.” I said, with some relief. “It’s you.” 

“I appreciate the enthusiasm.” 

I stood back, allowing him entrance. The sky behind him, I noted, was almost full dark. I forgot how quickly the light faded in the mountains, cut off by the surrounding peaks. Soon, winter would be upon us. I shuddered at the thought; it was already cold enough here. 

As soon as the door closed, I was on the qunari, pulling at his belt, trying to undo it. “Now I _really_ appreciate the enthusiasm.” He laughed. I ignored him. 

“Here’s how this is going to work.” I murmured, tugging his pants off. “I’m going to suck you off, then _you’re_ going to fuck me until I forget who I am.” 

Iron Bull looked down at me as I dropped to my knees, trying to make good on my promise. Considering the growing blood flow down south, he also wanted me to make good on my promise. At least, that part of him did. Unfortunately, another part of him was trying to be a good friend. He tried to bring me to my feet, but I swatted him away, taking his length into my mouth. 

“ _Fuck_. Reina.” 

I swirled my tongue around his tip before taking him back into my mouth almost fully, using my hand to take the remainder of his shaft. One of his hands fisted in my hair, and he pulled me away, somewhat reluctantly. 

“You’re pulling me the wrong way.” I growled, digging my nails into his thighs. He groaned. 

“Damnit, stop.” He released my hair, pulling me to my feet with ease, his hands gripped around my arms, firm as, well, iron. “Reina, this is not like you.” He stated. I pressed myself against him, gyrating my hips against his erection. 

“Don’t you like it?” I asked, pouting. “You did last time…and the times before that.” 

He shook his head, his horns almost brushing the ceiling. “I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t but damn, woman, you are not yourself.” 

“How do you know?” I pulled away from him, glaring and pouting. “We’ve just fucked a couple times. I don’t…it’s not like you know who I am.” I crossed my arms, staring at him as if daring him to defy me. 

“I’m not as stupid as I might look.” He said easily, placidly. “I pick up on things. And you are not this person. This bitter person who uses sex as a distraction? _You_ are usually the distraction for others. Maybe this is you finally being selfish, but I think it goes deeper than that.” He stared back, now daring _me_ to defy him. We stood, staring each other down for a few moments. Then I threw my arms up. 

“Why can’t you just fuck me and leave, like usual?” I shook my head, putting my hands on my hips. “Why are you getting all deep and philosophical?” 

“Because I respect you too much to let you do this to yourself.” That gave me pause. He continued. “If you can tell me, without a doubt, that you aren’t using sex with me to distract you from true feelings you have for another, I will _very_ happily fuck your brains out.” He leaned down, to be closer to my eye level. “Look me in the eye and tell me that you wouldn’t regret it after.” 

“Why does that matter?” 

“Because I don’t particularly want to come between you and someone else. And because you owe it to yourself to be honest.” 

I was about to retort, then I deflated. “I like him so much it hurts.” 

“I thought so.” He stooped lower, pulling on his pants and doing the buckles and fastenings back up. 

“I’m sorry—” “Don’t be.” Iron Bull smiled a crooked smile. “I mean, I’m going to miss tumbling with you, but I also don’t want you to be hurting.” 

“What should I do, Bull?” I turned away from him, sitting on the edge of the bed. He joined me, hunching slightly, finishing up the attachments on his clothes. 

“I’m used to battle strategy, though I guess it sort of applies.” He rested one arm on his knee, leaning in close to me, intense. “Address your problems head on. Figure out exactly what you want and then get it. Or say it. You need to be a bit more selfish. Once, of course,” he side-eyed me, “you actually know what you want.” 

I leaned my head against his shoulder and sighed. “I will admit, sleeping with you is the far easier and less painful option. And that’s even _with_ the memory of the bruises you left on me last time.” 

He laughed at that. “Again, I’m definitely kicking myself for not fucking you, then giving you all this advice. I _really_ must respect you, Cort’esa.” 

I turned to him, eyes wide, innocent. “We could still tumble, for old time’s sake?” This made him laugh again, and he shook his head, still chuckling as he stood and made his way to the door. 

“You’d only regret it. Figure out what you want, Reina, then get it.” 

"Funny, you're the third person to tell me as much in the past week." 

"For someone who is usually good at giving advice, you really suck at taking it." He grinned and left my room. I stood, chasing after him and tearing open the door. 

“Bull!” He turned from the top of the stairs, poorly illuminated by the gathering dusk. “Thanks.” I watched him go, and I swore he started to whistle. I remained perched at the edge of the stairs overlooking the courtyard, watching his hulking shadow head back to the tavern. I was about to turn back to my room when two figures passing him caught my eye. 

One was male, the other female. It was only when they passed through a patch of moonlight that I recognized the golden hair. 

_Cullen._

And he was not alone. 

I didn’t remember the name of the barmaid, but there was no mistaking their intentions. 

I heard her giggle from my perch as they approached the door to his quarters and disappeared inside. 

I felt a physical pain in my chest. It was a few minutes before I realized it was starting to snow and I tore my eyes from the distant door, returning to my room. 

I was numb and it was not due to the cold.


	13. Anticipated

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling above me, flickering slightly in the dying firelight of my room. My fingers were tingling, and my heart was beating a slow, hard rythm in my chest. 

_You will not weep._ I thought to myself. _You have no rights to him. Especially after last night._

So why did my heart feel like someone had just pierced it? 

I gnawed on my cheek, unable to close my eyes. I did not want my mind to replay what I had seen. If I stared fixedly at my ceiling, I might be able to forget what I had seen earlier. Upon returning to my room, I’d changed out of my day clothes into a warmer shift, and started a fire to warm my room, growing chillier as the night fell. I hadn’t felt tired, so I had curled up on my bed with a book I had borrowed from Josephine. It was a while before I realized I had read the same page about three times over, not absorbing a single thing. Letting out an explosive sigh, I had decided to try to sleep. Much to my chagrin, I was still wide awake. 

And miserable. 

_Figure out what you want._

I threw myself out of bed, Iron Bull’s words echoing in my brain. I knew what I wanted, but was it too late? 

_Then get it._

I pulled my cloak on, not completely sure what I was going to do. I was feeling energized, invigorated. A bit angry, even, though not as I had the evening before. And not at anyone but myself. Well, and maybe the girl who had gone to Cullen’s room… 

I went out into the night, the snow quickly collecting in my hair. I shivered in my cloak, annoyed that I hadn’t thought to get dressed into something a bit warmer than my thick shift. There was no turning back now; I drifted like a dark cloud down the stairs, across the grass and to Cullen’s rooms. It couldn’t have been more than an hour since I’d seen him disappear into his room with the barmaid, yet there were already feet leading away from his chambers. Small, women’s feet. 

I pursed my lips. Good, she hadn’t stayed. 

At the same time, part of me was upset I wouldn’t be able to catch him in the act. It would make me feel at least somewhat justified in my emotions. My conscience tried to remind me that I had no claim on him, but I was too riled up to listen. I banged a frozen fist on the door. When I heard nothing, I banged again. This time, I heard a noise beyond the wooden door and, a moment later, it was pulled open. 

Cullen looked surprised to see me, his brow furrowing. 

“Is this going to be a regular occurance?” He began, then narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You’re not drunk again, are you?” He asked warily. I shook my head, snowflakes collecting in my eyelashes. 

“I actually…want to apologize for how I behaved last night.” I shivered. “It was very unlike me—” 

“Come in out of the cold.” He sighed, opening the door wider. I nodded, grateful. His rooms were only somewhat warmer than mine. 

“Thank you.” I strode past him, glad to be out of the falling snow and the chill. “Anyways, as I was saying, I apologize for how I behaved last night.” 

“You said that already.” 

I turned to face him, frowning. “I hadn’t really prepared a speech to give you, sorry if I repeat myself.” I could not keep the vexed tone from my voice; was he being dismissive? Did he really want me gone that badly? 

“It’s fine. And you don’t have to apologize.” 

“I’m afraid I made you very uncomfortable. Although,” I noticed now, how he was wearing only breeches and a thin shirt, “although it appears as if you got over _that_ pretty quickly.” 

“I beg your pardon?” He crossed his arms. I did the same. 

“I saw you bring…whatever her name was to your rooms. Though it was only for a short while, so it couldn’t have been for more than a quick lay.” 

He spluttered, then composed himself. “Who I… _lay_ with is no concern of yours.” 

“No, you’re right, it shouldn’t be!” I pointed at his chest. “This is your fault. If you hadn’t kissed me—” 

“You told me to!” Now _he_ was growing heated. 

“—I wouldn’t feel so guilty all the time.” 

“Guilty about what?” He looked both annoyed and curious. 

“Guilty about taking on patrons. Not that I have, lately, anyways.” 

“Clearly you haven’t been feeling _that_ guilty, since I saw a certain qunari heading this way earlier?” 

“We didn’t do anything.” I said, defensively. 

“I’m supposed to believe that?” He scoffed. 

“What, you think I’m a liar?” I took a few steps forward, glaring up at him indignantly. 

“No, I can only go on what I’ve seen. And whenever Iron Bull goes to your chamber, he always comes out covered in… _love marks_ , and you’ve the ones to match.” 

I threw back my cloak, pulling at the neckline of my gown down low, drawing his eyes to my pale collar and shoulders. “See any marks? Want me to get him so I can show you he is also unmarked?” Well, he might have some light scratches on his thighs. I ignored this, continuing before Cullen could say a word. “Since that kiss, I haven’t _been_ with another person!” I was closer now, yelling up at him. His eyebrows shot up, but then he recovered. 

“Good!” He growled back. “Do you know how insufferable it has been, watching people parade into your room, and leave looking…” He ran a hand through his hair, lost for words, unable to finish his thought. 

“And whose fault is that?” I hissed. “You could have come to me at any time—” 

“It took all my power not to.” He said through gritted teeth. 

“Why didn’t you? Was it the thought of me being with others? Perhaps I’m not good enough for the noble Commander—” 

His hands went around my arms and he squeezed me tightly. “It has nothing to do with your purity.” It was a snarl, but he seemed intensely genuine. “But I do, so badly, want you to myself.” His voice was low, dangerous. He stared intently into my eyes, the both of us breathing heavily with anger and suppressed rage. 

He brought his mouth to mine then, and the heat between are lips was consuming. It was better than the first kiss and I gave myself over to it willingly, my eyes shutting, my body relaxing. He bit my lip and I returned the favour, wanting more, to devour him— 

And then it was over. He pulled away, eyes averted, dropping his hands from my arms. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn't have—" 

In a heartbeat, I was back on him, one hand in his hair at the back of his head, tangled in that beautiful golden mass, my other hand gripped the collar of his shirt. He responded in turn, our mouths connecting eagerly. His hands went to my hips, digging into the soft skin as he gripped me, pulled me tighter, closer. He was already becoming aroused; I could feel his stiffness on my lower belly. 

His hands slid down beneath me, lifting me so I could wrap my legs around him, pressing my own warmth against him. Without breaking the kiss, I scrabbled at his shirt, pulling at strings to loosen it. He brought me over to his desk and set me down, breaking the kiss only to pull his shirt over his head. I pulled at his breeches while he did so, caressing him through the fabric. His breath caught, and I undid the last cord holding up his clothes. I took a moment to revel in his body; the golden hair dusted across his chest, darker at his crotch. 

Reaching for me, he pulled my shift over my head so that we both were naked, breathing heavily, flushed. He brought his mouth back to mine, one hand cupped around my chin to bring my face to his. I pulled him closer, my hands tight on his hips as I circled my legs around his waist, wanting to feel him. All of me felt tight, ready to explode at the slightest tough. 

_I’d_ never sought out carnal pleasure before. _I’d_ never been the one to seek physical romance from someone. _I’d_ always been the one sought out by others. Never before had I desired someone so badly. 

He moaned against my mouth as I rocked my hips against him, letting him feel the wetness growing between my legs. He pulled back and I resisted until I realized he was reaching for himself, eyes on mine. There was an unspoken question. 

“Take me, Cullen. Here on this desk.” I breathed, tightening my legs around him, leaning back on the furniture in question, propped up on my forearms. “ _Please_.” I added, almost an afterthought. 

It was all the invitation he needed. 

He plunged into me and I tightened my whole body around him, instinctively. My head fell back, my hair draping across his desk, and the few papers that remained, most of the others having been scattered due to our activity. 

His head bent over me and his mouth took my nipple hungrily; sucking, licking, nibbling, tasting. The whole while, he thrust into me, rhythmically. His head tore away from my chest and he quickened his pace, gripping my waist to go deeper, to feel more, to go harder. I arched my back, wanting the same; wanting more, wanting _him_ , every last inch.

He slowed, but I knew he had not yet finished. What did he need? I wanted to give it to him; I wanted to see his face, to listen to his noise as he lost himself, over the precipice, into that temporary oblivion. 

“I want…I…” He panted, lost. I pushed against him, sitting up straighter. He slipped out of me as I brought myself up to a fully seated position, bringing my mouth to his again, tasting sweat and fire. I pushed him backward and he took a step away, puzzled. 

“Lie down.” I breathed, heartbeat loud in my ears. My cloak was still lying on the floor, protection against the cold of the stone. Cullen reclined onto it and I lowered myself onto him, straddling him, but not yet pulling him within me. I brought my hair over one shoulder, out of the way and his hands drifted to the curtain of lilac, fingers lacing through. He turned his face to inhale my scent as I bent my head over his neck, placing feather light kisses along the jumping pulse there. I continued my trail of feather light kisses, occasionally throwing in a nip or a taste—he tasted of sweat and sex and delight—down his chest, over his stomach, the tense muscles there, which were clearly anticipating where I might go next. 

To his surprise, I did not go all the way down; I retraced my steps and his breath hitched. I took his mouth to mine again as I raised my hips, reaching down to caress him, then slid down, sheathing him fully once more. I straightened, leaning back so I was astride him, my entire body on display for his enjoyment. And I began to rock my hips. 

I was braced on my knees, able to rotate and slide my hips up and down, side to side, pulling him deeper and deeper inside me. I reached for his hands, which were grasping my thighs, putting them on my breasts, wanting to feel him touch me. He ran coarse, rough thumb pads over my nipples, already teased and pert. When I released his hands, one went lower, dropping between us, to the heat of my bundle of nerves. I leaned back slightly, allowing him access to stroke me, liquid fire building in my blood at the sheer anticipation of his touch. 

He stroked and pressed and rubbed even as I rode him. I could feel my own climax building up and he watched my face as my eyes fluttered shut, my breathing coming faster, a couple high pitched moans escaping from deep within me. My pace on him slowed, but he continued his movement, stroking and driving me closer to my edge… 

I finished in an explosion of light, my head thrown back, mouth open in a soundless cry of pure ecstasy. 

I licked my lips, riding the tail end of my orgasm, legs feeling weak and useless. Cullen sat up, kissing me, his arm snaking around my waist as he turned me over so I took his place on the cloak, not breaking contact between us. He began slowly— _so slowly_ —to plunge into me, taking his time. 

“Come for me.” I breathed, eyes half shut, still clinging to the buzzing pleasure left in the wake of my peak. 

That did it. He did not hold back, setting a grueling pace that I was sure would bruise my pelvic bone, as his pounded against mine in a carnal frenzy. And then the moment I had been waiting for; he faltered, a noise from the back of his throat escaping his grit teeth, somewhere between a growl and a moan. His eyes closed of their own accord and he lowered himself to me, rhythm lost, seeking my mouth as he finished inside me. 

I brought my hands to his hair, holding him against me as our heartbeats slowed to a regular pace. My eyes were closed and I was smiling. I could hear him breathing steadily at my ear; not asleep, but relaxed. 

“You smell so good.” He mumbled into my hair. 

“You too.” I giggled. 

He propped himself up on his elbows, blinking at me with his amber eyes. “Sorry, that can’t be comfortable.” He removed himself from me, standing and offering me a hand. I laughed. 

“You were on your back first.” I teased. He smiled at me, eyes half lidded. 

“On the floor, yes. On my desk…” his breath caught and he cleared his throat. “Maker, on my _desk_.” 

I laughed, bending down to get my clothes, pulling my shift over my head. “I don’t think things got too messy.” 

He shook his head. “Whenever I look at it, I’m going to see you.” He swallowed. “I…normally don’t do this sort of thing.” He stated, pulling on his breeches. 

“Really?” I strode over to him, running a finger down his chest as he straightened. “What about the girl from earlier?"

"We kissed, but it was wrong." He shook his head. "She wasn't what I wanted."

This admission made my heart swell. He turned on me, then looked up. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out an amused, breathy chuckle. “I…I wanted to take you to bed. To do this properly." 

“I see.” I bit my lip. “Next time…” What was I saying? I was not supposed to be the one to pursue the patron. I was a Cort’esa. He was supposed to seek _me_ out. I was not some lovesick puppy to be chasing him around. This was not supposed to be a regular thing. I needed to get him out of my system. Surely, this would be enough. I did not want to heed what Dorian and Iron Bull had been telling me; I did not need to engage in anything more than a trivial fling with the Commander. 

“Yes?” He probed, stooping to pick up his shirt. I bent down, shaking out my cloak and wrapping it around my shoulders. 

“I look forward to next time.” I said dismissively. “Thank you.” 

I left him standing in his office, stunned into silence. 


	14. Steel Yourself

Two days later, I was greeted by one of Josephine’s people in the mess hall, who approached me with a smile and a bow, hand over chest. 

“Lady Cort’esa.” 

_You’d think they’d learn eventually that Cort’esa is my title….not ‘lady’_ I thought to myself, turning to beam at him, inner monologue hidden by my joyful mask. 

“Ser.” 

He blushed. “Lady Montilyet wishes to see you at your earliest convenience.” 

I nodded, standing. “I’m ready now. Would you be so kind as to escort me?” 

The boy—for really, he could be no older than seventeen—turned an even brighter shade of red and bowed low. 

“I’d be honoured.” He managed, his voice lowering. I hid a smile. My request to have him escort me was two-fold; I wanted to be seen at least attempting to perform my duties and maybe if I was seen with someone else, I could more easily stave off Cullen. 

I felt a pang in my heart as I nodded goodbye to Derek, who was finishing his own meal. I had been avoiding Cullen since the evening I had confronted him…my face flushed with the memory. What we had done had been no wilder than what I’d done with other men and women before…but somehow it was lingering with me. I didn’t want to face my feelings. So I was making the adult decision and avoiding him. Rather successfully, too, though I had to admit that was likely less due to my own avoidance skills and more to do with the fact the Commander was incredibly busy. Derek had laughed when I told him. 

“You’ll have to face him eventually. Skyhold isn’t _that_ big.” He shook his head at me. “Avoiding him will only make things worse. And I bet that he feels as strongly for you as you do for him.” 

“That’s what worries me…” I had mumbled back. Derek just laughed, offering nothing else. I was on my own. 

“What’s your name, ser?” I brought myself back to the situation at hand, my hand resting gently on the messenger’s arm as he led me through the keep to Josephine. 

“Henri, Lady Cort’esa. I’m not a ser.” He corrected, turning to smile at me. As young as he was, he still stood about a half a foot taller than me. I smiled up at him, squeezing his arm. 

“Henri, so long as you act like it, you are a ser to me.” 

He ducked his head, clearly pleased. I chatted with him a bit more as we walked slowly through Skyhold to Josephine’s office. Henri told me about his mother, who was in Orlais, close to the border of Fereldan. She lived alone with their dog, and made delicious cheese. He was clearly missing her terribly, so I listened, asking questions about her when the opportunity arose. Too soon, we stood at the door to Josephine’s office. I turned to Henri. 

“Thank you, most kind ser.” I withdrew my hand from his arm. “If you ever wish to go for a walk again—” 

“Tonight?” He asked, eagerly. Then bit his lip, reddening. “Sorry, I imagine you’re busy.” 

I laughed. “Henri, I’d love to take an evening walk with you. I shall meet you by the Herald’s Rest? I look forward to hearing more of your life before you came to Skyhold. Too often we forget to remember the better times.” 

He nodded at my words and scampered off. I smiled, watching him go. For the first time in a while, I felt guiltless, aiming to help others. He was clearly pleased, which warmed my heart. Still smiling, I turned and rapped my fingers against Josephine’s door. I heard her call to enter from within. I did. 

“Ah, Cort’esa.” She looked up from her desk, and bade me wait with a lifted finger. I advanced deeper into the room, standing by her desk while she finished scribbling something on a parchment with a flourish. She stood, smiling, once she was done. “My apologies, I had not expected you to come so soon and I had to finish this letter before I completely forgot my train of thought.” 

“It is really not a problem, Lady Montilyet.” I inclined my head respectfully. She _tsked_ at me. 

“Please, call me Josephine. I have a favour to ask of you.” 

“Ah, now we get to the heart of the matter.” I teased. She laughed, coming out from behind her desk. 

“Oh, it is nothing too difficult. And I guess it is less a favour than an _extension_ of your job here already.” She smiled. “First, though, how are you liking that book on Orlesian culture?” 

“It’s wonderful!” I gushed, more than happy to talk literature. “There is so much the same, yet so much different, between Vermahna and Orlais. It makes me both homesick and glad I am not home.” I laughed. 

“Ah, I am sorry to cause conflict in you.” 

I waved her off, not wanting to admit that the conflicting homesickness was the least of my internal turmoils. “Please do not worry about that. I really am enjoying the book. I should be done soon.” 

“Wonderful. I have many more tomes, if you’d like.” She gestured to the bookshelves. “Though, many of them are very dry accounts of nobles and family lineage and the like.” 

“I will read anything.” I admitted with a shrug. She chuckled. 

“So I have heard. You appear to spend almost all your downtime in the library. Or, you were. Until recently.” She eyed me speculatively. “You can’t have read through everything already?” 

I shook my head. “No…I ah…” I stammered, not sure what to say. _Yes, I’m avoiding the Commander because we made love and I’m a coward, afraid to tell him how I feel._ I’m sure that would garner the Ambassador’s respect. 

She clearly sensed my hesitation. “No one is giving you a hard time, I hope?” She sounded concerned. 

“Goddess no!” I laughed. “The only one making my life difficult is myself.” I smiled sadly. “But I am able to separate my professional life and my personal life.” I said this with wide-eyed intensity; I hoped she had not heard of the rumours from earlier in the week and, if she had, she was able to see that that was not who I truly was. 

This made her laugh. “Well then you are a better woman than I. It is hard to separate personal from professional all the time.” 

“No kidding.” I sighed. I missed her speculative look. Then I shook my head, straightening. “What is it you wanted to ask me?” 

“Right.” Josephine reached for a paper on her desk, hidden under a stack of reports. She shifted them. “We are holding a gala in a months’ time. I remembered hearing you had danced at a ball attended by the Marquis de Saigny, and he was enthralled. I was wondering if you might not grace us with a performance?” 

My face split into a grin, spirits lifting as they hadn’t in weeks. “I would be truly honoured.” 

“I hope that is enough time to prepare—” 

I cut her off with a wave of my hand. “It is more than time enough. I know exactly what I will perform. I will need instruments, though. Drums, tambourines…and a couple men or women to play them. Derek will help me teach them.” It was easy, really, as the musicians just needed to maintain a beat with one another, with Derek’s lead. 

“I shall put announcements around the keep and have the musicians come to you.” She nodded, noting this on a parchment. “And instruments. Is there anything else you need? Fabric for a dress? We can find a seamstress…” she offered. I shook my head. 

“I have a dress for the occasion.” I smiled. “I shall let you know if there is anything further, I need.” 

“Perfect. I shall send the musicians to you within the week.” 

“Thank you, Josephine. I look forward to the gala.” 

With that, I left her to settle back to her reports and sheaves of paper, a new spring in my step. A gala! It had been ages since I had done a proper dance. And I _loved_ to dance. I had to find Derek, to let him know immediately. Leaving the office, my mind was racing with plans and ideas and preparations, so I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. 

I ran right into Cullen, who also had been deep in conversation with one of his men, talking slightly over his shoulder, his man a step behind him. 

I would have fallen to the floor, but Cullen’s hand went to my elbow and my waist to steady me. Our eyes met and my mouth went dry. I did not speak, not sure what to say. 

“Ah. Reina.” He looked surprised. “You’ve been avoiding me.” He stated bluntly, voice impassive, tone neutral. 

_Damn it all._ Was I really that transparent? I laughed, making to shake him off. His hand tightened on my elbow. 

“Please, don’t treat me like a fool and deny it.” His brows came together. I pursed my lips, swallowing hard. 

“I’m sorry, I—” “Can you come see me later?” He asked. I stiffened, and he released me. “I just want to talk.” There was something in his voice; pain? Sadness? Goddess, had I _hurt_ him? 

“I will.” I conceded with a nod, then turned and fled. 

***

I rubbed my face, pinching my nose between my index fingers, eyes closed tight. 

I had returned to my room after my meeting with Josephine and my run-in with Cullen to find what I needed for my performance. I spent an hour or so preparing; making sure I had everything, putting on my costume to make sure it still fit—it did—and then jotting down some quick ideas for my dance and the musicians. 

Then I’d spent far too much time agonizing over what I was going to say to Cullen, when it came time to meet him. 

I wanted to ask Dorian for advice—he would tease me, sure, but at least he had no possible alternative agenda—but I knew he’d probably relay everything to Derek. I could ask Iron Bull…but I knew I’d just want to roll in the sheets with him again, and I wasn’t sure he could resist me a second time. Then again, maybe I was overestimating my powers of seduction. Or underestimating his willpower. Still, as much as he respected me, I did not want to tempt fate. Or each other. 

I ran through the friends I had made among the Inquisition, wondering who might be the best choice for advice…I could talk to Varric, though he, like Dorian, probably wouldn’t take my qualms as seriously as I wanted. The Seeker was out, as was Leliana—I could not fathom telling them that I had feelings for their Commander. Vivienne—as dear as she was—would probably just call me _precious_ and tell me to stop dilly-dallying with my heart. Sera would somehow get the conversation diverted to talking about the best bottoms I’d ever seen—I swore, that girl had an obsession with asses. Solas was probably my best option, but he was usually busy painting or reading. I did not want to bother him… 

“Goddess, why is this so impossible!” I had made friends here, and yet I had no one to turn to? I pushed myself up from my chair and then it struck me. _Of course_. I pulled my cloak around my shoulders and made my way to the Herald’s Rest. 

***

“You’re asking my advice?” Krem asked, incredulous. “Why?” 

We were seated across from each other on one of the upper landings of the Herald’s Rest. I’d stolen him away from his usual perch and he was staring at me, eyebrows arched high, hands wrapped around a tank of honey mead. Which he only drank when hungover, I had learned. 

“If you are feeling too poorly—” I looked at the drink. Krem shook his head. 

“I didn’t actually drink that much last night. But I…well, I’m meeting up with Maryden later this evening and I don’t want to be drunk.” 

I smiled. “That is why I’m asking for _your_ advice.” I said and he raised his eyebrows. I explained. “Because you are committed to Maryden, to courting her, wooing her…” I shrugged. “I’ve never done anything like that before.” 

“Haven’t people wooed you before?” He asked, confused. I shook my head. 

“Not…sort of.” I shrugged, shaking my head in exasperation at the situation. “People come to me knowing that what I offer is as simple as a one-off deal. They don’t need to put in more effort than is necessary. Back home…there were rules and etiquette.” I tried to remember; I had been very young when I left home, I had not been at an age to properly learn what my people did. My mother had adapted my training to Orlais. “From the sounds of it, our patrons might bring us small gifts, if they were regular customers. But…feelings were discouraged. For the most part.” I reflected, pausing. “From the patrons, we were not supposed to accept anything beyond small gifts, small tokens of appreciation. If a patron began falling in love with a Cort’esa…she was assigned to a new patron.” 

“That sounds rather lonely.” 

I shook my head. “From the sounds of it, the Cort’esa could court their own lovers, but we could not encourage feelings from others we did not care for. Causing unnecessary heartache is not part of our code.” I looked down into my own glass. 

“What happens if you fall in love?” Krem asked, swallowing his mead and watching me, voice curious. 

“My mother told me that when I finally found someone I loved, she would tell me.” My shoulders slumped. “But she died before she had the chance.” 

“Did she not have her own lovers in Orlais?” 

I shook my head with a heavy sigh. “No. I think she was still herself heartbroken over the death of my father.” In fact, I’d remembered her distinctly telling Derek one time that she would not take another lover so long as she lived. She still performed as a Cort’esa, of course, to the extent of her abilities, but she never sought companionship. 

“Well…I don’t know much about relationships.” Krem sighed. “Maryden is one of the first women I’ve actively sought, who has returned the feelings.” A small, unconscious smile touched his lips. “But I know that it was hard at first.” He met my eyes. “I also know that being open with her was the best course of action. Telling her how I felt…” He shrugged, blushing a bit. “I sound like such a sap, don’t I?” 

I grabbed his hand, still around his mug. “You sound like how I feel.” I said with a pained smile. I withdrew my hand. “I just…I don’t know what _he_ wants.” I had not told Krem who _he_ was, but I didn’t doubt he might suspect. That was adding to my discomfort; I didn’t need all of Skyhold knowing _everything_ about my heart and desires. “And while I do know I want him, I also don’t want to let anyone down. I was brought here for a reason and I _know_ that my duties will decrease significantly if anything develops between us.” 

“You want my advice.” Krem stated. “I guess it’s this; tell him how you feel. Figure out how he feels. And then see what you both want, once it’s all out in the open. Worst comes to worst, you want different things. It will hurt but…at least you will have tried. And so far as your duties go, I think you’re greatly underestimating your ability to boost morale, just by continuing your non-physical duties.” 

My face relaxed. 

“Thanks, Krem.” 

“Anytime.” He swallowed the rest of his drink. 

“Another?” I asked. He laughed. 

“You’re not trying to get me drunk, are you?” 

“And sabotage what you have with Maryden?” I scoffed. “Of course not. I was thinking watered wine. I want to know more about where you’re from.” 

“Tevinter?” He shrugged. “Not much to tell. Besides, aren’t you close with Dorian? He could tell you.” 

“Asking Dorian for serious answers is like asking a nug to climb a tree.” I pursed my lips. “I adore Dorian, but you at least seem more down to earth.” 

Krem laughed. “I thank you for the compliment.” He stood. “Let’s go get another then.” 

“You want to stay downstairs, don’t you?” I asked. He nodded, a crooked smile reaching his lips. 

“Guilty. I only came up here because you didn’t want to be overheard. If the sensitive part of our conversation is over,” he gestured to the stairs. “Perhaps we could go down?” 

I agreed and followed him. We spent a while chatting; he told me about Tevinter and I told him about Cort’esas who were like him; born one way and living another. Apparently, Iron Bull had a long, qunari word for it. I told Krem our word; _Kaladi_. 

“It basically translated to ‘misplaced.’” I frowned. “But that doesn’t completely sum it up. Essentially, the idea is that the Goddesses, Solmera and Ljunara, pick our souls and our bodies for us. And while usually, they put the right soul into the right body, sometimes a soul gets misplaced.” I gestured to Krem. “A man’s soul ends up in a woman’s body. Or vice versa. And sometimes, a soul gets blended. Someone who is both man and woman gets mixed into one body. We call them _Kidara_.” 

“Your homeland sounds very…unique.” 

“We just believe that everything in life has a purpose, an explanation.” I smiled. “My best friend, Lierah, was _Kaladi_.” I missed her terribly sometimes. She was probably dead…my smile faltered, and I chased away the thought. 

“Like I said, unique. I don’t think even the Chantry is that accepting.” 

“Well, people need to adapt.” I said. Then laughed. “Iron Bull was right; I am terrible at taking my own advice.” 

“What’s this I hear about me being right?” Iron Bull loomed over us, having approached at the tail end of our conversation. 

“Oh, she was just saying that you _lean_ a bit to the right, chief.” Krem said solemnly. “Nothing to be ashamed of though.” 

I laughed and Iron Bull scoffed. “If anything, I lean to the left. And don’t you forget it.” He took a deep draught of his drink. “Fine, don’t tell me what you’re talking about.” 

I stood, placing a hand on his arm. “I was just telling Krem that I’m very bad at taking my own advice.” I smiled at my drinking companion, who lifted his mug in a toast. “And I think…it’s high time I did.” I swallowed the last of my drink, putting the cup back down on the table. “Thanks, Krem.” I saluted, which made him roll his eyes with a laugh. I took my cloak off my seat and draped it over my shoulders. 

I went out into the open air, waving at Harding—goddess, she was the cutest most ferocious little thing—and paced across the grass and down the steps to Cullen’s rooms. 

I was shaking, strangely terrified, as I rapped my hand against his door. Why, in the name of the Goddess, was I so scared? I waited, raising my hand to knock again when I heard a throat clear behind me. I turned, expecting to see him. Instead, I saw a soldier. 

“The Knight-Commander is still meeting with the War Council.” He said. “He will be back later.” 

“Oh. Thanks.” I nodded, descending the steps, feeling relieved. _Coward._ “I shall return later.” 

It appeared I still had a bit of time to steel myself, figure out what I was going to say. I decided to see Derek, and tell him of Josephine’s request, and that I’d need his help. I found him in the stables, chatting amicably with Blackwall. Or, Thom Rainier, as we’d discovered. It was strange to call him so. They were discussing some combat techniques when I entered. 

“Reina.” Derek smiled, pushing himself off his position, leaning against a beam. “What is it?” 

“Hello Thom.” I smiled at the man who once was Blackwall. “Glad to see you’re doing alright.” We hadn’t really had a run-in since our encounter those weeks ago. He inclined his head to me. 

“I still get the stink-eye from a great many. I’m just so bloody lucky the Inquisitor heard my side of things.” He glanced between me and Derek. “I take it you need Derek. I’ll take my leave.” 

“We’ll go.” I said, gesturing at Derek to follow me. Derek turned and nodded farewell to Thom. 

“What’s the word?” Derek asked, following me back into the yard. 

“Josephine wants me to perform at the gala.” 

“I’d heard about that. Apparently it is to be a party of special magnificence.” He chuckled. “And by _you_ I assume you mean _us_?” 

I turned, grinning at him. “Derek, you know the music! Josephine is already seeking out musicians and you can help me teach them the music. Obviously, you’ll lead.” 

“What dance?” he asked, and I grinned widely. He laughed. “Ah, _that_ dance? I should have guessed. That will definitely impress them.” He nodded. “Alright. I can do that.” 

I took him back to my rooms so I could tell him my ideas. He nodded and offered his own suggestions. After a short while, we had the rough outline of a plan for the gala. We could finalize it when we had the other musicians. I bid him farewell and was surprised to see it was growing dark. Where had the day gone? 

Cullen was probably back in his room…I swallowed, my heartbeat quickening and my face flushed with heat. It was now or never. 

I knocked on his door, heart beating a drum in my ears. I could feel it down to my toes. My mouth was dry again, and I was more nervous than I had been since my Tier One examinations, to admit me into the higher levels of Cort’esa training. That had been nearly fifteen years ago…to think I hadn’t been this nervous in a decade and a half. I’d been nervous since then, sure, but not so much that I felt this sick. 

_Stop thinking about it._ I chided myself. _It will only make things worse._

Thinking he wasn’t coming, I turned to leave, but the door opened quickly. 

“Reina.” 

I was surprised at the flip-flop my heart did upon seeing him. Lit from behind by candle- and firelight from within, he truly looked angelic, glowing gold and silver. 

“I didn’t think you would come.” He said finally. I smiled nervously. 

“I almost didn’t. But…it’s been brought to my attention that I need to stop being a coward.” 

He pulled the door wider. “Please, come in.” He seemed as nervous as I felt, avoiding looking at me. I did as requested and he closed the door behind me. Then, going to his desk, he stood facing me. “Ah…would you like a drink?” He asked, turning to a shelf by his table. “I have some brandy.” 

“Yes, please.” I sounded so stiff, so formal. Hopefully a couple sips of brandy might relax me. Was it a mistake coming here? 

We did not speak as he poured us both a couple fingers of the dark liquid. I took my cup gratefully. 

“Cullen, I—” 

“Reina—” 

We laughed uncomfortably, speaking over one another. I took a sip of my drink. 

“Please, you go first.” I said. 

He nodded. “I wanted to apologize for the other night. I don’t know what I did but…clearly you did not wish to see me after then. I just…wanted to know what I did wrong.” He sounded wounded, his eyes gazing at me intensely. I shook my head, almost violently. My hair shifted across my shoulders. 

“Goddess, you did _nothing_ wrong.” I smiled, embarassed. “I’ve been avoiding you because of me.” I crossed one arm across my chest, cupping it with the other, my glass almost forgotten in my hand as I sought the right words. I closed my eyes. _Now or never…be open, honest_. “I’ve never had feelings for anyone before. Not…not like I do for you. And it scares me.” I licked my lips, barreling on. It was easier to speak if I couldn’t see his reaction. I didn’t want to see his face turn to a laugh a sneer, telling me I was being a fool. “I can’t stop thinking about you. And I don’t know how to deal with it. I don’t expect you to feel the same. All my life, I’ve been independent, distant…performing my duties, as expected. And now I don’t want to. Or, I want to do some of them. But I don’t want to touch anyone else. To kiss anyone else. I…” I took a deep breath, “I only want you.” My eyes were closed now. This was when he’d tell me that he’d decided that our one encounter was enough, he didn’t like me…I should leave… 

I was surprised when I felt his hand on my elbow. I had not heard him come around the desk, immersed as I had been in my own fears. 

“Reina…” His voice was soft, and I turned to face him. He no longer looked wounded; now he looked positively radiant, eyes alight with warmth, melted pools of amber. He took my cup and placed it on the desk behind him, then cupped my chin in his hands. “I feel the same.” 

He brought his lips to mine then. Not in the furious, hungry delirium that had first taken us. I was surprised at the softness, the tenderness in his kiss, the steady warmth of his body against mine. My hands went to his chest, meeting cold metal. 

“I’m sorry.” I said, after we broke apart. “I…I should have told you, that first night…” I closed my eyes. “I don’t really know how to _do_ this sort of thing.” 

“You have never been in a relationship before?” He breathed into my hair, pulling me into an embrace. I shook my head against him. 

“No. It seemed…messy.” 

“Life is messy.” He pulled me away, meeting my eyes. “But…I want to experience the mess with you.” 

“I can’t…guarantee that it won’t be messier than it already is.” I said sadly. “I…I really don’t know what to do here…” 

“We can take it one day at a time.” He pressed his forehead against mine. “Although, we are doing this very backwards. Normally, we court and _then_ ravage each other.” 

“I don’t really follow the norm.” I murmured. He kissed my forehead. 

“That’s alright. We can make our own rules.” 

We stood and he wrapped me in his arms. 

And I was happy.


	15. Found

“Cullen?” I said against his chest after a moment. 

“Hmm?” He responded. 

“I hate to do this again but…I have to go.” 

He pulled away from me, eyeing me warily. “Already too much?” He sounded a bit tired. I shook my head, laughing. 

“No. I…I told one of Josephine’s attendants that I would walk with him around the Keep, earlier today. He misses his mother and, well, I like to listen.” I sighed. “I truly hate to leave you, but he’ll be expecting me.” 

“I understand.” He said simply, with a soft smile. “I’m just glad we finally talked and figured out us.” 

_Us_. I liked the sound of it, and I said as much. 

“I won’t have to start fending your patrons off, fighting for you, will I?” Cullen asked. I laughed. 

“I have subtle ways of telling people that I’m no longer _open_ for business.” 

“How can you, at one moment, act so demure and then, the next, sound so crass?” He mused. 

I pulled away from him, looking up into his face. “Is that a problem?” 

He shook his head, chuckling. “No, of course not. It’s just amusing is all.” 

“I live to entertain.” 

“I know. I remember what you said, that first night by the river. I think…I think that’s when I started really liking you.” 

Blushing, I pulled away further, to look into his eyes. “Truly?” 

“Yes. The passion and dedication you have to your craft is inspiring. It is like Solas and the Fade or…Varric and Bianca. Except…well, I don’t really want to bed either of them.” 

“Understandable.” I laughed. I leaned up, kissing him on the cheek. “I’ll return in a while. We can talk more…I want to know everything about you.” I kissed him on the edge of his jaw, where it sloped to his neck. “Your family, your childhood…how you got that scar on your lip.” I kissed that next. His hands went around my waist. 

“If you don’t leave now, I won’t be able to let you out of my sight.” He whispered against my lips. I laughed, kissing him hard, once, then whirled from him to the door. 

“I’ll see you in a bit.” 

My heart was full. I practically danced down the stairs. I loathed to leave him, but I was a woman of my word and I never missed a rendez-vous without informing the patron. And I did not want to hurt Henri’s feelings. With any luck, he’d never been stood up by a woman and I was not about to be his first. 

I made my way to the tavern. It was much later than I thought; it must be nearing midnight. The guards were only visible when the moonlight caught their armour or the puffs of their breath as they exhaled into the air. 

I nearly skipped across the lawn, knowing that as much as I wanted to help Henri, focussing on a patron would be difficult tonight. I was too elated; half my mind was still back in Cullen’s bureau, wrapped in his arms. Hopefully by the time I got back, he would have removed his armour and would be down to…less. The thought of touching his body again made me ache. 

The Herald’s Rest splashed light like dropped paint against the shadows of the grass around it. I bit my lip. I hope Henri didn’t get the wrong impression, asking to meet this late. Noise spilled from the Herald’s Rest; there was a great deal of singing—or what passed as singing, I supposed—and yelling and cheering. A patrol must have returned; it usually meant for a crowded tavern and as much noise. Sera wouldn’t be happy. 

I didn’t see Henri as I approached the tavern. I hoped I was correct in my time estimate, and he hadn’t been waiting for ages, and then left when I was a bit late. I’d have to seek him out and apologise, if that were the case. I did not want him to think it was personal… 

That was when I heard a noise coming from the far side of the tavern, around the back. I couldn’t make it out, and for a moment I wondered if a couple had snuck out of the tavern to find a quiet, shadowy place to be amorous. But no, I knew enough of what that sounded like to know it wasn’t the sound of love-making. I neared a corner, and saw Henri, leaning heavily against the tavern wall, slumped, coming toward me. It took me a moment to register that something wasn’t right; he was hurt, but how? 

“Henri!” _Something is wrong...how had he been hurt within Skyhold?_ I rushed forward to take him into my arms, to help him, when his eyes shot to me. 

“Cort’esa! Run, there’s—” his warning was cut off; I watched as a long blade, thrust from behind, protruded outward from his chest. 

I was too shocked to scream. 

Henri’s body crumpled, and I recoiled, looking into the shadowed face of an assassin. He was on me in a second, pulling me into the shadows, sheathing his weapon. 

“Chiral says hello. It’s time to come home, Queenling.” He spoke Vermahnese as he reached for my wrists, and I recoiled. Dread and realization hit me at the same time, his words registering too slow in my mind. It wasn’t an assassination, it was a kidnapping. And I was the target. 

I found my voice. 

“Help!” I screamed loud, tearing my wrists away from the man’s steel grip. “Help!” I shouted until he released one of his hands, my slight wrists now held securely in one of his much larger ones and struck me in the side of the head. I saw stars, but opened my mouth to scream again, until he punched me in the mouth. 

“Quiet! Or I’ll—” I didn’t get a chance to hear what he’d do, since a shadow suddenly appeared behind him, and struck him—hard—in the back of the head. His eyes rolled up, his hands went slack, and he fell forward. I recoiled, pressing myself against the wall of the tavern behind me, staring down at the two bodies in front of me. I threw my down beside Henri. I looked up at my saviour, but his face was hidden beneath the enormous brim of his hat. I’d only seen the figure once before, but I knew who he was. 

“I heard you. I could feel you, louder than those inside. They did not hear. I heard. I came. I will get help.” And he was gone. 

I didn’t know what to do beyond wait. I turned Henri’s body over, his eyes staring glassily, lifelessly up at the night sky. I was kneeling in his blood, spilled on the grass, the shadow of the surrounding buildings making it almost invisible to the eye as it soaked into the grass. My mouth tasting of blood, I closed his eyes, then left my hand on his cheek. _So young…_ I lamented. Then I heard the revelry inside stop. 

Suddenly there was a flurry of movement; Cole, the spirit, had clearly moved quickly, alerting everyone he could of the attack. Iron Bull and Krem and their companions poured from the tavern. In the distance I heard running, shouting, weapons being drawn. 

A large hand came to my shoulder. It was Iron Bull. 

“What happened?” He asked. His voice was loud, I could tell he was drunk. I had no answer. I continued to hold Henri in my lap, his blood soaking into my dress, making my legs sticky and wet. A new voice joined the crowd. 

“Reina? Maker’s breath, Reina?!” 

I turned to see Cullen push through those gathered. 

“Reina, your mouth…” I turned away, dimly aware of the pain in my swollen lips. 

“It’s nothing.” 

He glanced at Henri, and then the unconscious assassin beside him. He spoke to someone behind me. 

“You, take the assassin to the cells. Inform the Inquisitor—” 

“He came for _me_.” I said. My voice was dead, hollow. “He said ‘Chiral says hello’ and tried to take me.” 

“Are you sure, Reina?” He knelt beside me. I turned dead eyes to him. 

“Take off his hood. He’s one of my people.” I turned away. “He killed Henri. Henri was just a boy. He’s dead because of me.” I fought the rising panic in my chest. 

“We will make sure his next of kin hears and receives his body.” His voice was too soft, too gentle for the scene before me. 

“His mother…she lives near the border of Fereldan and Orlais. She…makes cheese…” I started to cry then, body-shaking sobs that shattered the semblance of calm I was trying to hold onto. Henri’s mother would never see him return from this place alive. She would never see her sweet boy smile again. He would never fall in love… 

“Reina, breath…” Cullen slid closer, pulling me away from Henri’s body. I was dissolving into hysterics, my breath coming too quick, too hard. He took my bloodstained hands. “Listen to me; breath.” He took some breaths with me and I stared into his eyes, unblinking, trying to hold onto myself. Once my breathing was under control, Cullen helped me to my feet. “Let’s get you out of here.” 

I hung limp in Cullen’s arms as he took me away. He murmured something to one of the soldiers passing. I saw many familiar faces, all solemn, many still with ruddy cheeks and bleary eyes from the drinking. 

“It’s my fault…” I said. “He was supposed to meet me. The killer was there for me…” I sobbed. “It’s Val Royeaux all over again.” I turned my face toward Cullen, grief and terror and memory wracking at my body. 

“Shh…I’ll keep you safe.” Cullen said. He was guiding me to my rooms, far away from the gathering crowd. I realised we were being followed. Cullen looked over his shoulder. “If what you say is true, I’ll not leave you alone for a minute.” He said, holding me tighter. “Even if I have to set a guard.” 

“Thank you.” My voice came out shaky, and I realized with a start I was back to losing it. My entire body started to shake and my legs went out from under me completely. Cullen caught me before I fell and quickly, I was in his arms. I continued to cry freely, my head curved into his chest, white-knuckled fingers clinging to his fur as he mounted the steps, nearing my room. The soldier following us opened the door and Cullen slipped inside. The door closed behind him and he took me to a chair, setting me down gently. 

My arms wrapped instinctively around me and I closed my eyes, rocking, shaking and weeping. Cullen knelt before me. 

“Reina…it’s going to be alright. Just breath. You are out of danger. We have caught the murderer—” 

“Chiral will send more.” I moaned, terror clawing at me. “He wants me back.” 

“Isn’t Chiral the one who took over Vermahna?” Cullen asked. “Why does he want you back?” 

“I believe I can answer that.” Leliana’s voice came from the door. Cullen whirled on her, standing. 

“Maker, don’t sneak around like that! I might have killed you.” 

“Doubtful.” Leliana glided over. “The Inquisitor has called a War Council, so that Reina can recount what happened.” Her eyes fixed on me. “The Inquisitor wants to know why one of our people were killed, right within our own hold.” 

“I will bring Reina in a moment. I’m sure the Herald can wait for Reina to catch her breath.” 

“I’m not so sure.” Leliana said succinctly, her voice dispassionate but not cruel. “Make it quick. It is time for the Cort’esa to tell us why she’s really here.” Leliana turned and left, and Cullen crouched back down to my side. 

“Reina…do you know what she’s talking about?” His voice sounded tight, fearful. I nodded, blinking wet eyelashes against my cheeks. 

“It’s best I start at the beginning. With everyone. I doubt even Leliana, with her network of spies, knows the whole story.” I swallowed, composing myself, choking back grief. Now was not the time to break down. That could come after. Right now, I needed to reveal my true identity and hope it meant I wasn’t thrown to the wolves. 

***

“Cort’esa.” The Inquisitor spoke. “Thank you for joining us. Leliana says that you claim the assassin who breached our hold was not here for me?” 

I nodded. Cullen’s hand was at my elbow, supporting me. I swallowed. I’d not even had time to change; I told Cullen it was better I did not keep anyone waiting. The longer I waited, the more grief caught up with me. Speculative eyes had followed me as Cullen walked me through the main hall, through Josephine’s office, and into the war room. 

“Leliana probably knows a bit of my story. But, just to be safe, I’ll start at the beginning, as far back as I can. There is much that no one knows.” 

“Can’t this wait?” Cullen asked again, to the room at large and the people gathered there. I turned to smile at him. 

“Commander.” I used his formal title, and he glanced to me, looking surprised. “I can handle this.” I launched into my tale. 

“My kingdom was ruled by both a Monarchy, chosen by blood, and a Council, chosen by the guilds of our city, by each guild’s members. My father was the king. My mother the High Cort’esa, chosen by the rest of the Cort’esa to represent them and their interests. I was next in line to be the next Queen, being my father’s only daughter, and while Council positions are not hereditary, I was on the short-list to replace my mother as High Cort’esa, once I was of age and she had stepped down. Unfortunately, my father’s best friend, Chiral…he was unhappy with the Council. He thought it was foolish to allow the people to choose who led them. He wanted to disband the council and _only_ have a monarchy. Then it was discovered he was planning a coup to overthrow both the council _and_ the monarchy, and take power himself. Obviously, my father was furious. “Chiral led a rebellion and killed my father. I was thirteen.” I stared, unblinking, past everyone in the room. I still remembered the day the man I had called uncle for so long came to our home…the last time I'd seen him, covered in my own father’s blood, shouting threats after me and my mother as we fled. 

“And?” Cassandra prompted. I was brought back to the present. “What happened?” 

“My mother and I escaped.” I said simply. “Chiral…wanted to claim my mother as his own. He wanted her approval and support, as she was such a well-respected figure in Vermahna. He thought that, despite having slain her husband in front of her, she might aid him.” I swallowed back my fury. “It was thanks to Derek that we escaped, he and his network of thieves and spies.” 

“Spies?” Leliana's voice was sharp. 

“He was the Councillor who represented the Thieves guild and the Spy guild.” I said simply, with a shrug. “A skilled swordsman, he was also our protector. He helped shepherd us into Orlais, finding us a place in the courts, where we were hidden, protected. Chiral gave up on us for a while; he had a new kingdom, a new order to establish and tracking us down well beyond our borders was beyond what he could handle, what with the political unrest left in the wake of his murderous coup.” 

“But two years ago, he found you.” Leliana’s voice interrupted my story as it neared its conclusion. “In Val Royeaux. Where he had your mother killed.” 

I met her eyes, shadowed beneath her hood. I nodded my confirmation. 

“We left Val Royeaux for a while, Derek and myself. He had killed the assassin, and using his knowledge of spies and the Orlesian courts, he did his best to make sure that rumours spread that my mother and I had _both_ been killed, hoping the news might make it back to Chiral. But then we decided it was safer to move on. To come here. We were going to come earlier, when you were still at Haven but…” I shrugged. 

“Shit went belly up.” The Inquisitor stated. 

“Precisely.” I nodded, agreeing. “Derek and I travelled, for a while, through Orlais, visiting different cities, living off the charity my name, and that of my mother’s, had garnered. We were welcomed; not many knew why, exactly, my mother had been killed. It was a mystery that fascinated them; why would one of our own people track us down, so far from home? It added to the intrigue that we already brought with us.” That part was a bit sickening; instead of pity and support, I had become even more of an oddity at court. 

“But why come here?” Josephine asked. I opened my mouth to speak. 

“It makes sense.” The Inquisitor interrupted. “She’s farther from Chiral’s reach, and she’s in the heart of a heavily guarded fortress, constantly on guard. It was probably the best choice.” 

“Plus…I really _did_ want to help.” I said, voice soft. “I still do. I’m sorry my being here has caused issues though. I can leave if you desire.” 

“No.” Cullen turned to face the others, as if daring them to contradict him. “I do not think we will be so heartless as to throw you out in your time of need.” He looked searchingly at the others. 

“Unfortunately, Commander, you do not have the final say.” Leliana said, turning to the Inquisitor, whose arms were now crossed. “Inquisitor?” 

“I have not decided yet what to do with the Cort’esa. This is a lot of information. Though I do agree with the Commander. She can stay, for now, while I decide.” 

I slipped from Cullen’s grasp and went down to one knee. “I thank you most humbly, Inquisitor. If…if you do decide to dismiss me, I ask that you do so by taking my life. The assassin said Chiral wants me home. Knowing what he has done to the other Cort’esa, I will _not_ be taken back there. I’d sooner die.” My voice was rough, hoarse. I was asking a lot. The Inquisitor eyed me. 

“If that is your wish…I shall keep that in mind.” 

“Inquisitor, you can’t be serious!” Cullen hissed. I stood, watching the Inquisitor expectantly. There was no indication in the Inquisitor’s eyes whether or not Cullen’s words were heeded. 

“Commander, please see the Cort’esa back to her room. And make sure there is a constant guard at her door.” 

“What I don’t understand,” Cassandra interrupted, “is how they got in in the first place.” 

“He probably used magic.” I said, looking to Cassandra. “Although, you can ask him yourself. He’s in the cells. He will be slow in giving up Chiral, though.” 

“We will make him talk.” Leliana said, voice cold and calculating. 

“If that is all?” Cullen looked around. “I think the Cort’esa could do with some rest.” 

“And a bath.” Cassandra added. “That is an awful lot of blood.” 

I glanced down at myself, shocked at the already browning blood on my clothes. I swooned, staggering. Cullen caught me. 

“Really, Seeker?” He snapped. She glared back, then sighed. 

“Apologies, Reina.” She said, voice softening. 

I nodded weakly at her, accepting the apology. Cullen steered me out of the room. 

***

Arriving in my room, I saw there was a bath awaiting me. I turned to look at Cullen. 

“I figured you’d want to bathe. It should still be warm. I can send a maid, or—” 

“No.” I gripped his hand, fighting a sense of panic. “Don’t leave me.” I pleaded, feeling my heart beat increase. 

“I won’t, Reina. I’ll stay here.” He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me on the forehead. “I’ll stay with you.” He spoke soft and low, his words and tone comforting after the harshness of the memories brought up at the war council. 

He helped me undress, tenderly, slowly. I closed my senses as the blood-soaked dress pulled away from my skin, the smell of so much spilled life sending my stomach roiling. I stood, arms wrapped around myself, shivering not from cold, as Cullen went to the door and put the dress outside. 

“Take this to be washed.” He murmured to the soldier posted by the door. 

“But Commander, you told me to guard—” 

“I’m here, Eli. I will protect the Cort’esa. Just return quickly.” He shut the door and returned to me. He faltered when he saw me, standing there, eyes glazed, shivering, covered in blood. Quickly, he composed himself. “Here, Reina.” He guided me to the bathtub. The water was warm and I sank into it gratefully. I did not look as the water turned red around me. I tried to focus on breathing but tears kept leaking out of the corners of my eyes and I shuddered, closing my eyes against the visions that plagued me. 

“I was tortured.” He said softly, taking cupfuls of warm water from the basin left by the tub, and pouring it over my shoulders and back as I sat, hunched. He’d stripped off his armour, though his sword was not far from reach. It made me feel safe. His sleeves were rolled back, and he was crouched beside the tub. I did not reply, simply turning my face towards him, blinking solemnly. “It was a long time ago. Shortly after I had become a Templar, I was protecting the Circle Tower when a mage, Uldred, captured most of my order. I was very young, not yet twenty. Uldred killed or bewitched many of my brothers at arms. I was kept in a magical prison…” He sighed. “It’s not something I like to remember.” 

“Why are you telling me?” I asked. My voice was quiet. He poured another cup of water over my back. It was warm, relaxing. Comforting. Having him take care of me…I felt safer. Soothed. 

He shrugged. “When you started sharing your story, I was upset you didn’t tell me about your past. But then…I remembered what happened to me. And that some things are better left in the past. At the same time,” he took one of my hands from the water, clasping it in his, “I want you to trust me. And I want to trust you.” He brushed his lips across my knuckles in the faintest of kisses. Then released it. 

I stared at my hand, and then saw the water below me. I let out a quavery breath, closing my eyes—hard—against the sight of the darkened water. Then I turned to Cullen, opening my eyes to the sight of him. 

“I need to get out of the water.” I said simply. He nodded, reaching for a towel. I stood, dripping, my hair below my shoulders clinging to me like silk strands. He wrapped me in the towel. 

“I’ll have someone get rid of that.” He said. I nodded, letting him guide me to the bed. I reached for my nightdress. Cullen made to help me, but I shook my head. 

“I can manage.” I pulled it over my head. I was beginning to feel a bit recovered. Perhaps I was in shock, or denial. 

“Would now be a terrible time to tell you that you’re beautiful?” He asked. I smiled, eyes heavy. 

“Not wholly. Honestly, I’m touched you’re being so…gentle with me. After I lied to you.” My voice was heavy with all sorts of guilt. I sat down on the bed, patting beside me. He sat, and I leaned against him. His arms went around me and we settled down together, lying side by side. I closed my eyes. 

“Chiral…was practically an uncle to me.” I said softly, after a moment. “He would always come visit us at the house. He’d bring my mother and I gifts…it wasn’t until later that I realised he had been in love with her. Perhaps…perhaps it was jealousy that drove him to kill my father.” 

“What was her name? Your mother.” Cullen clarified. I smiled, curling into him. 

“Seraphina.” I breathed. It had been a long time since I’d spoken her name, and the word came out like a sigh. Goddess, how I missed her! 

“And your father?” 

“Allain.” I recalled their faces. “My mother would have loved you. She loved the gallant knights, seeking to always do the right thing and aid those in distress, no matter the cost. I look mostly like she did; the pale skin, the dark lips…lilac hair. My father was immensely darker. His hair was an inky midnight. I take after him in height, though. He was such a small man, but he could command a room.” 

“They sound like they were remarkable people.” 

“They were.” A tear collected at the corner of my eye and I sniffed. 

“We don’t have to talk about this—” Cullen whispered. I shook my head, turning to nuzzle against him, seeking his warmth to combat the cold within me. I needed to get it out. I hadn’t told anyone what I’d seen, not even Derek. He’d seen his own share of horrors that fateful rebellion. 

“I have to. Someone has to know.” I continued my tale from the war room, the details that had not been important to share with the rest of the leaders, but were important for me to share now. 

“When my father first found out about Chiral, I don’t think he ever suspected that his friend would go so far. Some of the Councillors warned him that Chiral would betray him but my father had a way of seeing the best in people. For a long while after he died, my mother cursed him for it. Eventually, she changed her mind. I think she was upset that the thing she liked most about him, the thing most people liked best about him, proved to be his undoing. He’d decided to meet with Chiral, you see, to confront him. It was just supposed to be a meeting between him and my father. But my mother wanted to be there, to support my father. She thought that if Chiral saw her, he might change his mind. He loved her…but I said that already.” I gave a dry laugh, long repressed anger at the life and family I’d had stolen from me rising to the top again. It was better than the agony I was trying to shy away from. 

“It’s alright. Take your time.” Cullen murmured into my hair. 

I lay for a while, listening to his heartbeat, my ear pressed against his chest. He stroked my arm. If it weren’t for the horrible circumstances…this would have been a perfect moment. 

“I was frightened. I knew something was wrong, so I went to the chamber they were meeting in. My father and Chiral were arguing. When I heard my mother shout, I burst in, knowing something was wrong. Chiral was standing over my father, having stabbed him. My father had been trying to tell my mother to leave, and well…Chiral killed him. My mother screamed for the guards but we didn’t know Chiral had already planted his own men amongst them. He started shouting ‘The King is dead! Seraphina killed him!’” I saw it all with perfect clarity; my father, face down on the ground, outstretched towards my mother as he bled to death from the wound in his back. She’d tried to go to him but— “Derek rushed in behind me. He’d followed my mother and father as well, suspecting Chiral might attempt something like this. He had hoped to save the three of us but…it was too late for my father.” 

“Reina, I’m so sorry.” 

I lifted my head. “Thank you. It’s good to talk about it, after all this time.” 

We were silent for a while, and I was almost asleep when Cullen shifted. It was the shifting of someone stirring with a question. I looked up at him again. 

“What is it?” 

“Forgive me, but what you said to the Inquisitor earlier…about wanting rather to die than to return to Chiral…what happened to the rest of the Cort'esa?” There was a mixture of regret and something else in his voice. Was he regretting asking the question? I sat up, turning my face to him. 

“Chiral blamed— _still_ blames—my mother for a lot of what happened to him. He hated her for not choosing him over my father and he took it out on the rest of our order.” I closed my eyes against the faces that swam before my eyes. “Most of them were sold into slavery to distant lands, those who were not claimed by his most loyal subjects. We went from noble and respected Cort’esa to whores, sold off to the highest bidder, passed around like… _things_.” I spat out the word. “I will not return just to be some… _toy_ to a monster who killed my father and had my mother killed.” 

“No matter the cost, I will not let that happen.” He said fiercely, gripping my hand. “On my honour, you will be protected.” 

“If I have to leave the service of the Inquisition, you couldn’t help me.” I whispered. He looked at me, puzzled. “You have a duty here.” I said, placing a hand on his cheek. “I’m one person. This is so much bigger than me.” 

He took my face in his hands, kissing the unblemished side of my mouth softly, before pulling away and staring me hard in the eyes. 

“You do not realise how important you are.”


	16. Recovery

I didn’t remember falling asleep, but I must have, for the last thing I remembered before awakening was Cullen stroking my hair and telling me stories about his childhood, wrapping me in the comfort of his own memories. The scent of him lingered, but his warmth was gone, and I opened my eyes to find I was alone in my bed, wrapped in my blankets. I shot up blinking, heart-racing and terrified. 

He was leaning over my hearth, poking a flame into being from the dying embers, adding small logs to feed the slowly growing flames. 

“Did I wake you?” His head turned sharply toward me, drawn by my movement. I shook my head, embarrassed. My heart continued a frantic thrum in my ears, slowing gradually. 

“No. I…I was scared you’d left.” I was discouraged by the weakness in my voice, the quiet helplessness. He stood, his task completed as the last of the logs caught, and came to sit on the edge of the bed beside me. He reached for my face, running his thumb softly beside my swollen, split lip, concern visibly pronounced in his eyes as he gauged the wound. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked. I tongued the wound, no longer swollen but still sore. 

“Shocked.” I said simply. “Scared. Guilty.” The last word came out quieter, a confession. He pursed his lips and stared me straight in the eye, hands firm on my cheeks as he stared piercingly into my face. 

“What happened yesterday was not your fault.” 

His tone was gentle but adamant. I closed my eyes at his words, letting his warm, clear certainty wash over me. A single tear escaped my lashes and I opened my eyes. 

“I want to be the one to write the letter to Henri’s mother.” I wasn’t sure who that responsibility would fall to; I was quite sure that Henri had been one of Leliana’s agents, but I did not doubt that my request would be accepted. 

He nodded, once, then stood. 

“You Vermahnese take delight in claiming blame, it seems.” I must have looked confused, for he smiled and explained. “Derek has not left the cells—keeping watch over our prisoner—since he heard what happened. He has the focus I wish I could give all my men.” 

_Derek_. He was probably worried sick about me. And I hadn’t even bothered to check on him. My guilt multiplied. Cullen took my hands in his. 

“He knows I’m with you. Seemed to make him relax, even the smallest bit. I’m glad he trusts me.” Cullen gave a small smile, running a thumb over my knuckles, smooth against his callused skin, highlighting the difference in our professions. 

“Did he say anything about the man’s magic?” I asked. Cullen frowned. 

“About that…none of our mages can sense it. And yet you seem certain he has it.” 

I tucked my legs under me, shifting my weight to lean toward Cullen. Knowing he used to be a templar and what templars stood for—I’d had a long discussion with Solas about such things—I knew this probably made him somewhat suspicious. Magic that was inexplicable, unknown and had caused so much misfortune? He had every reason to be suspicious, but I knew better, and I revealed much, if not the whole story. 

“Many of the Vermahnese have magic, but not the kind you have here. I talked to Solas a great deal about how different our branches of magic are. The magic here is tied to the Fade, which means mages are beacons to demons and spirits. Vermahnese magic…I can’t even begin to try to describe it, it’s so vastly different.” 

“Does it not come from the Fade?” 

“Not as far as I am aware. Which means we are in no danger of being possessed or drawing demons.” 

“We?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. I smiled, kicking myself internally. 

“My people. We don’t have the…divisiveness between mages, non-mages…templars.” _That worked as an excuse, right?_ “Anyways, here you have different kinds of magic; healing, fire, cold, lightning…” I frowned. “I’m sure there’s more, those were just some of the examples Solas used.” 

“You and he spoke a great deal about magic.” He observed. 

I nodded. “He was interested in Vermahnese magic, so I shared what I know. And I was curious about the magic here. Especially after what happened at the Conclave. I never had a chance—or desire—to learn much about the magic here, until recently.” I shrugged, continuing on with my explanation. “Our magic has specialties too. And tends to be less external—the elements, spirits, the like—and more…” I searched for the word, “internal.” How far could I go into detail here? “When we touch people, we can feed into their energy and find their hurts and heal them. There are others who can penetrate the memories and thoughts of others.” I winced at how bad that sounded. “They are usually spies or assassins, drawing out the information they need, sometimes painfully. Mind mages are dangerous; if they touch you for more than a moment, they can easily uncover your darkest fears, and turn them against you. There are few branches that are more external. The man who tried to take me…I believe he is one of the mages who can move light and shadow around his body, making him invisible. He may also be a Mind mage, hence why he knew where to find me. If Henri was excited, his thoughts could likely be sensed, picked up on, even from a distance.” 

“Your mages sound almost more dangerous than apostates, simply because they have such finessed control.” Cullen sounded wary. 

“Not all seek to finesse their magic to a higher level. Some, upon realizing what they can do, ignore it, don’t use it. It is a conscious thing, for us. There are very, _very_ few cases of a mage losing control.” 

“I see.” He still sounded distrustful. I could not tell him… 

I swung my legs out of bed, away from him. 

“I should go see Derek.” 

“Should I send a guard? Or do you want me to come with you?” Cullen placed a hand on my wrist. 

I turned my wrist to take his hand in mine, squeezing it. “I’ve taken enough of your time. I’m sure you have things to do. I’ll take Eli, or whoever is still outside. Though I’m certain it won’t be necessary; another attack will not come quickly. Especially if we use the capture of Chiral’s agent to our advantage. That’s _also_ why I want to talk to Derek. He and I need to discuss the best course of action.” 

“You don’t need to leave.” There was a softness in Cullen’s voice. He made a half-step closer to me. “I don’t think the Inquisitor will make you go. Although the Inquisitor _may_ demand final say in the fate of your attacker.” 

“I don’t want to leave.” I smiled at him, then the smile gave way to a sigh. “But Chiral needs to hear something from his man. Or…through other channels. We can use the confusion to our advantage. I hope the Inquisitor will see that.” 

“I imagine that the Inquisitor will see reason.” Cullen squeezed my hand back. “Promise me you’ll be safe. And let me know if you need anything.” 

“I promise.” 

He bent his head, kissing me softly. 

“I meant what I said last night.” 

_You do not realise how important you are._

I blushed at the memory, heart swelling. 

*** 

“Derek?” I asked softly, opening the door to the cell block. He was sitting on a small, hard stool, his back against the stone pillar, staring, unblinking, at the man in the cell in front of him. His head turned to me and he finally blinked. 

“Reina.” His voice was hoarse with emotion and fatigue. It was mid-afternoon; I had slept late, my body and mind needing time to recover from the experience of the previous night, and Cullen had insisted I go get something to eat and get someone to look at my lip before going to see Derek. And considering what Cullen had said about my guardian, the man likely needed food and drink himself. So I had complied with the Commander’s request, bringing an extra plate to serve to my oldest companion. It was my turn to be caretaker. 

“Reina, I’m so sorry—” His voice cracked, and he slumped against the wall. “I wasn’t with you. It’s my fault—” I was surprised to see tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. “If anything were to happen to you, I’d never forgive myself. I promised your mother…” 

I rushed to his side, putting the food on a small table. I settled at his side, on the floor of the chamber. He looked wretched, up close; his eyes were rimmed with red and baggy, he had dark shadows under his eyes and his usually well-kept hair was askance. I’d never seen him looking so unkempt, and I swore he had more grey hairs than I’d ever noticed before. I took one of his hands in mine, stroking it gently. 

“Derek, it’s not your fault.” I murmured, bringing his hand to my lips, echoing Cullen’s words to me mere moments ago. “I shouldn’t have gone out alone. We…we’ve grown used to the safety of being within Skyhold’s walls.” I sighed. “We let our guard down but it’s _not our fault_. It’s Chiral’s. It will _always_ be Chiral.” The words had a sort of soothing effect on me, as well, as I started realising the truth of my own speech. 

“I should have been there.” He mumbled again, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the stone wall. He was openly weeping now, tears silently streaming, leaking from the creases beside his eyes. 

“Derek, when was the last time you slept?” I asked. 

“I don’t know…night before last? I was with Dorian yesterday, playing cards late into the night. We heard the commotion, and that spirit, Cole, came to find me. We arrived to find them taking away the body of the boy. You were already gone. I demanded to be brought here, to watch _him_ , once I knew the Commander had you safe.” His voice was filled with the most hatred and venom I had ever heard in him, as he jerked his head toward the prisoner, who was unconscious. I steeled myself to face my attacker and Henri’s killer, and looked through the bars. 

“By the sun and the moon, what did you _do_ to him?” I asked, my voice coming out in a high gasp. He opened his eyes, following my gaze. He sneered, a grim line in his face. 

“Wasn’t me. As much as I wish it was.” 

I released his hands, standing, walking to the side of the cell. No wonder the man was still unconscious; he looked to be barely clinging to life. I whirled on Derek. 

“What happened? Who did this?” 

“Leliana’s people. They were trying to figure out how he got into the walls.” 

“Shadow and light.” I offered, staring at the wounded man on the floor of the cell. Derek nodded. 

“I told them that they must never touch him, not with their bare hands. And that if the cell ever appears empty, to throw a powder—flour or…or dirt—into the cage, to see where it hits. I don’t trust he won’t trick them. They don’t know about our magic.” 

I turned away from the cage, somewhat sickened by what lay within, for more than one reason. I slipped into our own tongue, Verma, and spoke to Derek. 

“I told them everything last night, except that I also have magic.” 

His eyes snapped to my face, and he blinked. 

“You told them everything?” I nodded. He stood, rubbing his face. “Are they not upset they were deceived?” 

I shrugged. “The Inquisitor has still not decided if we can stay. I believe a decision will be made today, or tomorrow. I don’t think they’ll kick us out.” I smiled softly. “Cullen refuses to let that happen. I told them that…that if they were to dismiss me, they’d have to kill me, too.” My last words were said softly. Derek’s shoulders slumped. 

“Because I cannot protect you?” 

“No, Derek. “ I shook my head, reaching for him. “It is because I cannot be hunted the rest of my life. And I cannot go back. I will not live in some…in-between until you die or are killed.” I straightened. “I will not live in the prison of my own terror.” 

He nodded, but still looked a bit wounded. I kissed him on the cheek, then replaced it with my hand. 

“I trust you implicitly. You could live happily without me. I know you’d lay down your life for me…but what then? If you are forced to die to protect me, that does not mean Chiral will stop.” 

“I know.” He said, finally, heavily, accepting the truth in my words. We switched back into the common tongue of Thedas. 

“Eat your food. And then get some rest. I will have someone sent to relieve you.” I turned away and left the cells, the pain and misery that lay there, behind me. 

*** 

“Cort’esa.” 

Smiles and nods and pats of relief and pity on my arm greeted me all that day and the next. Wherever I went, people seemed happy I was alright, shocked at the attack. I was touched; even those who had never sought me out privately, who knew me only in passing, we trying to comfort me. Even just to offer a warm smile. It made me realised just how much I fit in here, how accepted and welcomed I was. I loved it here. I hoped the Inquisitor did not make me leave. 

The only person who did not offer me warm words of comfort was one of my patrons. Pierrot was downright furious, and wasted no time in telling me this, the moment he saw me. 

“The Inquisition should be able to protect its people better!” He hissed, after greeting me with kisses on the cheek. His voice was loud, boisterous and angry. I had never seen him worked up in such a manner. 

“It is not their fault, Pierrot. They are expecting a much grander attack from a much larger outside threat. And besides, the assassin is one of my people. He is very adept at remaining unseen.” Still, Pierrot blustered on for a while, those around looking on, listening in while pretending they weren’t, used to Pierrot’s blustering. Eventually he’d calmed down enough for me to leave him and so I turned to the grand doors of the main hall. I needed a breath of fresh air. 

“Pearl.” My head snapped to Varric, who was standing in the shadow near the fire. “You seem to have adopted a new shadow.” He said, nearing me and Eli, the soldier who Cullen had assigned as my personal guard. I smiled at the dwarf. 

“It would appear so. Cull—the Commander thinks it’s necessary, in order to protect me.” 

“Curly has a point. You were attacked _within_ our walls…it’s probably safest to have a constant watch. Ruffles also had a target on her back a while ago but,” he shook his head, “no one actually got _in_ to Skyhold.” He eyed me, amusement lighting his eyes and his tone. “And don’t think I missed that slip-up.” 

I blushed, looking around guiltily. I didn’t want anyone to overhear this. 

“Varric…he’s just a friend.” 

“That’s not what the red in your cheeks says.” I put my hands to my offending body part and stared down at him. He grinned. “Hey, I might only be an adequate romance writer, but I’d like to think I’m good at picking up on really obvious budding romances. Actually…maybe I could use your story for my next book. I have it on very poor authority that my romances are much better received than I thought.” He mused. I glared. 

“Don’t you dare.” 

“Oh, it wouldn’t be obvious, don’t worry. I’ll use fake names…like maybe Violet and Blondie.” 

I continued to glare. 

“Anyways, Pearl, I’m glad you’re okay. Watch yourself. We don’t need to lose anyone else.” He returned to his place by the fire, and I turned to Eli, who was pointedly turned away. 

“You are not to tell any of that to your Commander, understood?” 

Eli, to his credit, simply nodded, his jaw working furiously to hold back a smile. “Understood, m’lady.” 

“It’s just Cort’esa.” I sighed crossly, turning on him. My shoulders slumped. “Sorry, Eli. I’m still recovering from everything going tits up.” 

This time, he was unable to hold back a snigger. I turned to glance at him over my shoulder, and the laugh turned into a cough. “Of course, Cort’esa.” 

I made my way out of the main hall, not wanting to be the center of attention anymore. I didn’t want to return to my room, either. I needed to go for a walk, to get some fresh, albeit, frigid air. I turned to Eli. 

“I’m going to walk the ramparts. I’m sure there are enough soldiers up there to keep an eye on me, if you wish to take a break.” 

“Sorry, Cort’esa. I’m not to leave you until my replacement comes. Commander Cullen’s orders.” 

“Of course.” I sighed. 

I made my way up the worn familiar stairs to the ramparts, wanting to see the mountains and the lakes and forests stretching out for miles, the cold wind whipping at my hair. Eli was on my heels up to the higher battlements, the ones farther from the front gate, overlooking the frozen lake below. I shivered, pulling my cloak tighter around my shoulders, leaning on the stone to look out, arms crossed under my bust. Eli stood back of me, eyes still trained on me, chatting with one of the guards on duty. I tuned them out, breathing steadily, looking out over the beautiful landscape. 

_What was going to happen?_

I was happier than I’d ever been, here in Skyhold. Away from the troubles of Orlais, away from the Game, the courts. I’d met some true friends here, people I actually trusted. I’d never felt loneliness before but now that I was here…if the Inquisitor asked me to leave, I know I’d feel lonely. An emptiness in my heart. Part of it would, of course, be because of Cullen. 

_A big part_. A small voice chimed in. _You like him much more than is safe._

I knew that, too. When we’d been talking about magic that morning, I’d wanted to tell him that I was a Vermahnese mage. All Cort’esa were. I could never tell him I’d used my magic to help him sleep, those long weeks ago. He’d be furious. I shrunk from the thought. He’d never trust me. I was surprised he didn’t mistrust me already, with the revelation of my past to the War Council yesterday. I shivered again, torn. On the one hand, I didn’t want to keep secrets from him. On the other hand, I was only just learning what it was to be truly happy. 

Something was wrapped around me and I jumped, not expecting the touch. It turned to see Cullen, standing beside me, his mantle pulled from his own shoulders to warm me. 

“You look lost in thought.” He said softly. “I wanted to make sure you’re doing alright.” 

I turned to face him completely, eyes flicking to the guards perched at intervals around the walls. 

“Your men might see…” I said, discreetly. 

“What, that I’m being a gentleman and helping to comfort a young woman who was attacked? There’s nothing inherently wrong in that. They already think I’m chivalrous.” He bent his head closer to mine. “I…wanted to talk more about us, yesterday, when you got back, but…” 

“I know.” I smiled. “Tonight?” 

He pulled back from me, surprised. “Only if you are feeling able. I don’t want to lay more troubles on your mind.” 

I laughed, pushing away from the walls. “Believe me, you are not a trouble to me.” I placed a hand on his, just for a moment, just to feel him. “But thank you.” 

Maybe I _could_ tell him…It was clear he cared for me, deeply. Enough to set one of his senior officers as my guard. Enough to have stayed with me all night since my attack. Enough to give me the space I needed to recover, to think. I grappled with my honesty for a while as we walked back along the ramparts. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you yesterday. I was busy with our prisoner.” We were nearing his room now, the door very close. My eyes snapped to his face. He looked grim, angry. 

“Cullen.” I whispered. “You didn’t kill him, did you?” 

He did not answer my question directly. “Derek helped us question him. He believes he knew no more than what he divulged to Leliana’s men, after the initial questioning.” It was not a direct answer, but it was answer enough for me. I shook my head. He pulled open the door to his chambers and I followed him inside, still a bit shocked at his admission. 

“I didn’t think you’d—” “What? You didn’t think I’d let him live, did you? To go back and tell Chiral that you’re alive? How it was that he found you?” He turned on me, eyes afire. Lately, his tenderness consuming him when he was around me, I’d forgotten that he also had the capability of the intensity of the warrior he was. “That I wouldn’t take the life of the man who almost took something most dear from me?” He seemed to realize he’d divulged more than he’d wanted to, whether about the death of my attacker, or his exposed feelings. He turned away. “I’m sorry. I already told you you’re very important to me. The fact you were almost gone…if he’d wanted to kill you, it would have been easy.” He breathed, running a hand through his hair. “I want to start teaching you to fight.” 

“Derek was already trying that.” I said, touched he cared so deeply. 

“He was teaching you swordplay. I want to teach you knifework. Hand-to-hand.” He explained, turning back towards me. 

“This sounds like an excuse to spend a lot more time with me. A lot more time in close proximity.” I said, taking a step toward him. He laughed, despite himself, then shook his head. 

“I’d be lying if that particular detail didn’t thrill me. But… my primary goal is to make sure you can protect yourself. I will not risk losing you.” He stated again, firmly. 

I slipped my hand into his. “You won’t. I’m staying. And…I want to be with you. _Only_ you. And I want everyone to know.” I blushed, ducking my head at my words, which sounded impertenant now that they had been voiced. “I understand if you do not—” 

He interrupted me with a kiss, taking my other hand, bringing our intertwined hands between us. He rested his forehead against mine after breaking off our embrace. 

“There are already rumours, since I spent the night in your room after the attack. And that time you came to me, drunk. And then the night after…” his lips were teased into a smile at his litany of personal encounters we had had, not all appropriate. 

“I am still so, _so_ sorry about that.” I said, embarrassment colouring my voice. He laughed. 

“Those nights…neither one of us were in our right minds.” I flushed at the memory of him taking me on his desk, the floor… “It will be amusing to confirm the rumours.” He immediately soured, a thought striking him. “Although, I have a suspicion that Varric has been placing bets on whether or not we’d end up together.” 

“Of course he was.” I sighed in agreement. “And I would make my own bet that Dorian was the first one to lay down coin on it.” 

“Well, perhaps we can begin by getting a drink together at the Herald’s Rest? That should get them talking.” 

“I’d love that.” I smiled, kissing him softly, arching my neck to reach him. I wondered if his desire to drink in the Herald’s Rest did not have something to do with a regular patron—both mine and the tavern’s—who enjoyed drinking with his men. The thought that Cullen might be a bit jealous of the qunari thrilled me a bit. 

We left his chambers, heading down to the tavern, when a messenger approached. She saluted to Cullen and then turned to me, offering the same gesture. 

“Cort’esa, The Inquisitor has summoned you to the war room, along with the others.” By _others_ , I imagined she meant the Nightingale, Lady Montilyet and the Seeker. Cullen, who had not released my hand since we’d emerged from his rooms, tightened his grip slightly. “The Inquisitor has requested your presence, as well, Commander.” The runner said, inclining her head formally to my companion. 

“Even if the Inquisitor had not, I’d be coming.” He said simply. “Thank you, you may go.” 

The girl nodded, saluted, and disappeared. Cullen and I walked, hand in hand, into the main keep.


	17. A New Task

“I knew it!” 

Varric’s crow of joy reached my ears, and Cullen and I turned to face the dwarf. He was positively beaming. 

“Nothing brings people together like war and tragedy.” He grinned. “Dorian owes me money.” I cast a sidelong look at Cullen, who was shaking his head, brow furrowed. Was he already regretting this? 

“Varric, we have somewhere to be. And don’t _you_ have better things to do with your time than bother us?” He grumbled. Varric laughed. 

“Well, clearly being in love has given you a cheery disposition, Curly. I’d have hated to see how grumpy you’d be if she’d rejected you.” 

“I pursued him.” I said, then lifted a shoulder. “Sort of.” 

“Damn it.” Varric slumped. “Now _I_ owe Iron Bull.” He stared at us, crossing his arms. “Any chance you can keep that little detail between us?” 

We both looked at each other, then turned, ignoring the question, crossing the hall to Josephine’s office, and continued through to the War Room. Varric was left muttering and laughing behind us. Cullen released my hand to open the wicket gate set in the large double doors and let me pass through ahead of him. I entered, and immediately noticed there was one more person than usual in the chamber. 

“Derek?” I was confused. 

“I asked him here as what is going to be discussed affects him too.” Leliana spoke. I approached the table, warily, Cullen at my side. The Inquisitor’s eyes flicked between us. I thought I saw the briefest of smiles, but then Leliana drew my attention again. She crossed her arms behind her back and stepped up to the war table. 

“The Inquisitor has decided you are to stay. I asked if we might be able to use the confusion of the attack to put out the rumour that you were killed, and then use you for our own means.” 

“As a spy?” I said, half-statement, half-question, cocking my head slightly. Cullen inhaled beside me. 

Leliana nodded. “Sort of. We have been struggling to get a message to an important Orlesian nobleman, the Duke of Prisane, who said he would support us. Unfortunately, we believe he is double-crossing us, plotting with some other nobles and claiming our messages are intercepted before they reach him.” 

“You’re certain the messages _aren’t_ being intercepted?” I asked. “And so you want me to spy on him, see who he is plotting with, and to see what has become of the agents?” I asked, reading Leliana’s partially obscured face. 

“You are very quick.” Josephine sounded impressed. “That is precisely what Leliana was suggesting.” She took up the thread of the assignment. “The Vicomte d’Hessi is holding a party in a few days’ time. He has invited the Duke of Prisane to the ball. We need to know who the Duke is meeting with, who is supporting his little rebellion. If you can get proof, that would be most fortunate.” 

“That’s incredibly dangerous.” Cullen interjected. I laid a hand on his arm and turned to face the others. 

“I will do it.” 

“It wasn’t really an offer, Reina.” This time Derek spoke. He sounded tired. “If you declined, they would have sent us away anyways.” 

I looked to the leaders gathered. “Is this true?” 

“We would not have sent you away permanently.” The Inquisitor said with a shrug, face impassive. “As Leliana said, if you leave, people may believe you dead, and then we can make sure that, when you return, it is not common knowledge, therefore greatly reducing the chances of another attack.” 

“You will send her out there, only days after her safety was in jeopardy?” Cullen demanded. 

“She is one of the best possible candidates for the job; she knows the Game and how to conduct herself at an Orlesian ball.” Leliana said. “Derek will go with her, as protection, as will a few of our other agents. The Inquisition was invited to the ball, but clearly the Inquisitor will not be going; there are far more pressing matters for the Herald to attend to. It would make sense to have a few of our agents show up, as representation. They can provide some distraction from the true spy.” Leliana nodded to me. 

“Send me as well.” Cullen demanded. Eyes turned to him, including mine. 

“You are needed here.” Cassandra stated. “Who will command the forces?” 

“We will not be attacked while I’m gone. And there are any number of senior soldiers who could be in charge while I’m away. Including you, Cassandra.” Cullen quirked an eyebrow at her, and she pursed her lips, breathing out heavily through her nose. 

“It could work.” Leliana mused. “Although, by that logic, we could send Cassandra, or—” 

“It will be me.” Cullen said, firmly. “So long as Reina is gone, I won’t be able to perform my duties properly.” 

“Are you saying you would allow your personal feelings to cloud your duty?” The Inquisitor probed. 

Cullen looked at me, then the Inquisitor. His face was set. 

“That is precisely what I’m saying.” 

My heart swelled, and I fought hard to keep the pleased smile from my face. 

“That is unexpected, Commander.” Cassandra spoke. “You’re not one to let your personal life interfere with your work.” She shared a look with the Inquisitor; clearly, they’d had this discussion before. 

“ _Exactly_. So you know this is important to me. And I don’t ask for many favours.” He was still staring directly at the Inquisitor. 

“How long will they be gone?” The Inquisitor asked Leliana, not breaking eye contact with the Commander. 

“A week and a half at the very most, if it snows. It takes about three days to get to the holdings of the Vicompte d’Hessi. There for one evening, three days back.” 

An intense staring match followed her words, between the Inquisitor and Cullen. 

“Alright.” It was said neutrally, which surprised me. “Commander Cullen, you have my leave. Make preparations; you depart before dawn.” 

With a nod, Cullen turned and escorted me from the room. Derek was our shadow. 

“He must really like her, to offer to go to an Orlesian party…” Cassandra’s voice followed us. “Remember Celine’s party?” The door closed behind us, cutting off any further discussion. Our footsteps echoed in the arched hallway, leading us back to the keep. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” I whispered to him. He opened his mouth to reply, but I cut him off. “But, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t glad you did.” 

“You don’t have to go.” He said, softly. “You could decline. I could suggest an alternate plan to make it appear as if you are dead.” 

“No.” I said firmly. “Leliana is right. I’m the perfect candidate for this job. I know how to speak, how to act, who to speak to, how to dress…the next best person would be Vivienne, who is too well known to go in without drawing attention.” I shook my head. “I know you are worried, but I think it is for the best I disappear for a while.” I took a deep breath. “And while I’m touched you want to come with me, I don’t want to come between you and your responsibilities.” I turned on him; we’d escaped the main keep and were now descending the stairs to the courtyard. “Don’t get me wrong, I am truly touched, but Cullen…I don’t want to be a distraction. I don’t want to be resented by your companions for taking you away.” 

We halted on the platform where the stairs opened, then curved toward the tavern. Derek passed us, probably to get his own things, and I nodded to him as we made eye contact. Then I fixed my attention back to Cullen. 

“Reina, I wasn’t lying when I said I wouldn’t be able to do my duties, knowing you’re out there, so soon after you were almost taken from the heart of Skyhold.” He shook his head. “Whether I come with you or not, I will not be of use to them.” 

“ _Assiname_.” I murmured, and we continued to walk. I realized then that he was steering us to my rooms. 

“First, not sure what you just called me but it started with _ass_ so it can’t be good.” We continued to walk. “Second…once you pack your things, I…hope it won’t be too impertinent to ask you to stay with me tonight.” He must have seen my look, because he reddened and stammered, “It’s—it’s not like that! I just,” he cleared his throat, “I just want to sleep with you.” 

“Ah, yes. You _just_ want to _sleep_ with me.” I drew out the words, putting as much innuendo in them as I could. “Of course. And the word I called you means donkey. Because you are stubborn.” 

“Yes, _sleep_." his tone was adamant. "We need to be up early tomorrow and, well…I’d like to sleep with you in my arms.” The thought of that made my heart ache for it. He laughed at my second comment. “And you’re not the first to make that observation.” 

“Truly, I am shocked.” I said, voice teasing, heavy with sarcasm. We made our way to my rooms and he led me inside. 

“Believe it or not, when I started my templar training, that particular trait was pointed out. I’d like to believe it’s something of an acquired trait, one I picked up in training since I was much older than many of my fellow templars when I began.” 

“Doesn’t surprise me.” I said, packing some things into my bags. I did not bring much; travel clothes and my gown for the party. In true Orlesian style, it was over the top, extravagant. I had not worn it in a very long time. I folded and wrapped it with care, tucking it into my bags. 

“What were you like?” Cullen asked as I packed, leaning against one of the pillars of my bed. 

“Hm?” I kept packing; some jewellery, masks, a fancy Orlesian hat to hide my hair. If I needed to be _dead_ I couldn’t have my telltale hair uncovered. 

“As a child, what were you like?” 

“Oh, you don’t want to know all that.” I said, smiling at him. “It’s quite boring.” 

“Nothing about you could be boring.” He said, approaching me, taking my hands. “You are possibly the most fascinating person I’ve ever known.” 

“That’s only because you don’t know everything about me yet.” I laughed. “Once you do, you’ll realize I’m really not that special.” 

“You are special to me.” He said, kissing me gently, his words pitched low with sincerity. 

There was a knock at the door, and we both whirled. Derek entered, and then smiled when he saw us, standing so close, Cullen looming over me. We must have looked guilty. 

“Glad you’re not being left alone anymore, though I’m not sure how effective the guard is when he’s too busy flirting with his charge.” 

Cullen spluttered. Derek waved a hand. “Relax, Commander, I’m only teasing. However, I do not lie when I say that should you hurt this girl, I will find a way to inflict the pain, tenfold, back on you.” He said it with such calm clarity that we both froze a moment. 

“Derek…” I scowled, my voice ringing a clear warning to my guardian, “be nice.” 

“Oh, that _is_ being nice. Being mean would be telling him exactly _how_ I would inflict such pain.” He smiled evenly. “Do not underestimate me just because I’m old.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Cullen managed. He seemed caught between being offended, apprehensive and amused. Thankfully, he went with apprehensive. 

“We were just talking about me, as a child.” I said, changing the subject. Cullen looked grateful. 

“Oh, did she tell you about the time she organized a small rebellion amongst the Cort’esans in training?” 

Cullen’s eyes homed in on me and I ducked my head, hiding burning cheeks. 

“Dammit, Derek, not that one.” 

“Oh, why not that one? It’s one of my favourites!” Derek sat at one of my chairs and regaled Cullen on the how’s and why’s of my small rebellion; that I’d wanted the day off from our classes, so I had sneakily gone around to all the other girls in training and told them of a plan. The plan had been to catch a monumental amount of frogs and other such small nuisances and set them free in the Cort’esa buildings. This, in my youthful mind, would cause mass confusion and all the adults would be too busy dealing with the small critters to notice we had all escaped and gone into the forest to play. Making off with all the pastries that had been prepared for the following day’s Moon Feast. 

“Except—” 

“Except it didn’t _entirely_ go according to plan?” Cullen asked, trying hard to stifle back laughter. I shot a glare at him and he held up his hands, helpless. 

“I don’t like this.” I said, glaring between Derek and Cullen. “Go back to threatening him.” 

I was ignored. 

“Correct, it did _not_ go according to plan. Reina forgot to take into account that the small creatures would continue to live on after they had been released and she and all the other Cort’esa in training had gone and had their adventures.” 

I glowered at Derek. “I hate you.” I professed, adamantly. Cullen was watching me with a warm smile. 

“What happened?” He asked me. “There has to be more to this story.” 

“Why did you tell him this story?” I asked, throwing my bags at Derek. He caught them, putting them by the door. 

“Would you prefer I told him about the time you tried to convince all the other Cort’esa in training that you could fly?” He asked, smirking. I blanched. 

“So the frogs…” I turned to smile at Cullen, who looked positively delighted. “They caught most of the frogs and _stiiva_ —like your nugs, but smaller and furrier—but some of them decided to set up home in…the sleeping chambers.” Cullen erupted into a laugh. “I had to clean the entire Cort’esa campus—only _slightly_ smaller than Skyhold—with all the Cort’esa in training after Cort’esa Briesh found a stiiva nesting in her hair when she awoke, three days after the ordeal.” 

“How old were you?” Cullen asked. 

“That was a year before we left so…I was twelve.” 

“And what was the story of you trying to fly?” He asked. I cursed Derek in Verma. 

“When I was ten, I tried to convince the other Cort’esa girls that I had been blessed by the goddesses with flight." I said in a rush. "So I jumped off the roof of the stables and broke my arm. Right before I had to write my Vermahnese history examination. Which is why I can write with both hands; I had to learn quickly.” I shook my head. "My mother made it quite clear that I would not be able to sit out of the exam because I had so foolishly gone and broken my left arm." 

“Your schooling sounds intense.” Cullen stated, a grin still on his face. I shook my head. 

“It’s not, really. We start at five, learning about our culture, music, history, arts, dance, writing, reading…maths too, though I was never very good. It gradually gets harder, more complex, until we reach the third Tier of Cort’esa training, which is a year of observation, when we are considered ready.” I picked up my bags near the door. “We should leave.” 

Cullen and Derek followed me out, and I locked up behind me. “Once we reach the age of fourteen, we start learning anatomy. _Not_ for sexual reasons.” I saw the look beginning on Cullen’s face. “We learn about muscles and bones, for healing purposes. How to deal with certain ailments and hurts. We don’t learn about the more pleasurable aspects of bodies until we are seventeen, and we do not take our first solo client until we are eighteen, or nineteen, depending on how our year of observation goes.” 

“So…you weren’t even in Vermahna when you were finishing your training?” Cullen asked. Derek left us as we reached the courtyard, promising to see us on the morrow. The Commander had taken my bags from him while I’d been locking up my rooms. I had not tried to get them back. We entered his office, and I shook my head at his question. 

“No. My mother dedicated much of her time to my training, however. As I said, she was the High Cort’esa; she was exceptional at…well, pretty much everything. You don’t get to be High Cort’esa by not being brilliant. And anything she could not teach me, she found tutors. Even with extra help, I was still hopeless with numbers, though. She _was_ impressed by my ability assess military strategy, however.” 

“You know military strategy?” Cullen sounded taken aback, shocked into questioning my statement. He put my bags by the door, just inside. I crossed my arms, leaning against one of his bookshelves. 

“A fair bit, yes. We left Vermahna in…9:28, according to your calendar. My mother felt that knowing military strategy would be helpful here, due to the fact there was always some war or another. I think...it may have also been because of what happened to my father.” 

“You were here for the Fifth Blight.” It was not a question. 

I nodded, uncrossing my arms and crossing the room. I felt he was drawing out our conversation for a bit. Was he nervous to be alone with me, now that all our cards were on the table? Considering how he was fidgeting, I assumed so. I stripped of my cloak, laying it with my other things. 

“I was. We were in Orlais, far from the fighting. Far from everything. It was still a horrific time.” I said. He looked distant, for a moment. “What?” 

“If you got here in 9:28, when you were thirteen—” 

“I’m twenty-six.” I said, laughing. “Though I’m constantly thought to be younger, because I’m so small.” I crossed to him, placing a hand on his chest. I looked up into his face, smiling coyly. “How old did you _think_ I was?” 

“Actually, I thought you were older than me.” Cullen said, his hands slipping easily around my waist. 

“Oh? You are…thirty?” I raised an eyebrow, gauging my guess. 

“Just about.” He nodded. “You just seem a lot more…well-rounded.” He said with a shrug. I fiddled with the fur of his mantle, appreciating the soft warmth against my palms. 

“I think that’s meant as a compliment.” I went on my tiptoes to kiss him. It was a tentative kiss, soft and warm. Comfortable, but there was still a fire beneath it. I was aware of how are bodies fit together, how he held me. I thrilled in it. 

“Are all Cort’esa like you?” Cullen asked after a moment, drawing away. I looked at him, an eyebrow raised. 

“I’m not sure what you mean…short? Purple haired? Prone to foolish ideas as children?” 

He laughed, shaking his head. “No. Big-hearted. Charming. Passionate.” 

“Are all templars like you?” I retorted, not angrily. “Level-headed. Chivalrous. Kind. Stubborn.” 

“I take your meaning.” He laughed. “I don’t know anything about your people, though. I…I don’t even think I’d ever heard of Vermahna, until you arrived.” 

“That’s understandable.” I said with a sigh. “We mostly don’t cross the Volca sea, instead travelling west, when we aren’t just keeping to ourselves. Our land is…rather unforgiving. Paladua, our capital, is an oasis in the middle of a large desert. There is a large river that runs from the sea to Paladua, but it is shallow, so many great boats cannot make it through without running aground. We have special boats, for such reasons, to take us upriver. And Vermahna itself is rather a small kingdom. Smaller even than…” I bit my lip, wracking my brains, trying to remember the maps of Thedas I had seen, “Rivain.” The land popped into my head. 

“Well, the way you speak of it, it sounds beautiful.” 

“Beautiful and dangerous. Like so many places.” I smiled. 

“Like you.” He offered helpfully. I laughed. 

“I’m not dangerous.” I shook my head. “Once you see me fight, you will see that I’m nothing to be scared of.” 

“Danger comes in more than just physical prowess. Take Josephine.” He shook his head, eyes distant. “I’ve heard—never experience, thank the Maker!—the sharp side of her tongue before. She could make the most seasoned templar wither in his boots. And while I don’t think you could possibly say a word against anyone,” he smiled at me, “you are unaware of the grace and beauty that you exude. I’m honestly surprised I’m the only one who’s fallen in love with you, though,” he punctuated his words with a chuckle, “I don’t doubt that others have, just that you’ve been unaware of it. You could fell an army with your little finger.” He sounded awed. I frowned deeply at him, though I was touched by his words. 

“I hate to say you’re wrong but I think you’re wrong.” I shook my head, hair cascading. “I think I’d know if—” 

“If someone was in love with you? How long did it take you to realise I was? You didn’t speak to me for days because you were worried I’d reject you, no?” He raised an eyebrow, hazarding a guess. I reddened. 

“That’s _one_ example.” 

“I’m more than happy to tour you to the rest of Skyhold and see how many people would be willing to lay down their lives for you.” His face darkened as he thought this over. “On second though, it wouldn’t be worth it, even to prove a point. All it’d do is show me how much competition I have.” 

“No contest.” I stated, kissing him on the cheek. “I choose you.” 

We talked for a while longer about, well, everything, interrupted a few times by runners coming to deliver reports and missives to the Commander. I realised I had never spent more than a few hours with him and therefore had no idea what he got up to in his day to day. Which then set us off into a whole other discussion. After a while, I found myself yawning and realised the sun was setting fast, the light fading quickly above us in Cullen’s room. 

“Sorry.” I apologised after a particularly jaw-cracking yawn. “It’s getting late and I’m tired. I’ve grown lazy in the past few years, sleeping in, so tomorrow is going to be difficult…” I hated mornings and knew tomorrow was going to be one of my earliest mornings in months. The thought made me cringe. I made my way to the ladder to the sleeping area. Cullen followed on my heels. “You know, we could have stayed in my room.” I grumbled, beginning to climb. “I don’t have any bloody ladders to _my_ bed.” 

He laughed at this, following me up the ladder. His sleeping quarters were simple; there was a large simple bed, perfectly made, and a table beside it, with a few candles. A chair stood in the corner. 

“I don’t spend much time here.” He said, running a hand through his hair. “If you can’t tell.” 

“When was the last time you slept in the bed?” I asked, running my hand over the blankets. He laughed. 

“Ah…night before last? Or, no, I was with you…” 

“When was the last time you _slept_?” I asked, clarifying my question. 

“The night I was with you.” And he'd fallen asleep after me and awoken before I did. Which was not enough sleep. 

“Have you been unable to?” I asked. “Do you need me to help you again?” 

He shook his head. “No, just been busy with the prisoner.” 

“Right.” I had forgotten about that. It hardly seemed possible it had only been two days since the attack…it felt like at least a week. 

“I hope…you understand why we killed him.” 

I nodded once, closing my eyes to the imagery of the attacker, both times I’d seen him. “I do. I…I hate any loss of life, is all. Plus…” I closed my eyes, “I wanted to make him tell me about Vermahna.” I smiled weakly, sitting on the bed and unlacing my boots. “I know that’s probably foolish; it hasn’t been my home in over a decade, but…” 

Cullen approached. “I’m truly sorry. I don’t believe he would have told you anything good. Derek assisted in the questioning and, well, without going into detail, the man was already trying to hold back information.” He paused, then opened his mouth to speak, closed it, shook his head, and stood. 

“What?” I asked, unlacing my dress. 

“Does Derek have…magic?” He asked. I froze, just for a moment, then continued to undress. 

“Yes. He does.” I dropped my dress, turning to face him in nothing but a thin shift which was mostly see-through. “Does that…bother you?” 

Cullen paused in his own undressing, averting his gaze from my mostly naked form. He was down to a shirt and breeches, having removed his armour and outer clothes down below. He seemed to be thinking, hands slowing in their task. 

“Not as much as it would have, when I was still a templar. I…it’s hard to understand the liberty given to your mages, but if they are as safe as you claim—” 

“They are.” I stated. “Derek is no risk to anyone. Unless he tries to be.” Suddenly, Derek’s threatening from earlier loomed in my mind. “And…he was joking, earlier, about hurting you if you hurt me.” I said, a bit panicked. I offset the worry in my voice with a breathy chuckle. He slipped his shirt over his head, and I swallowed at the sight of the muscles of his back as he moved, folding his shirt neatly and placing it on the chair in the corner. 

“Oh, I don’t think he was.” But his voice was light. “I have become a lot more… _accustomed_ to mages. It took a long time to trust mages, after what happened during the Blight.” I remembered; he’d been tortured, he’d said. I didn’t want to press him for details. “But after that, in Kirkwall, I started to realize that my views were harsh.” 

“I remember hearing about Kirkwall, and the rebellion.” I shook my head. “I still can’t really believe Hawke was here. I didn’t get a chance to meet the Champion, though.” I laughed. “It would have been fascinating, I’m sure.” 

“That was where I got my scar.” Cullen said suddenly, with a slight smile. “After Knight-Commander Meredith was stopped, many templars, including myself, tried to get the city calmed down. Many people we furious, and we were dealing with small riots here and there. A couple mages were attacked by a small rioting group and a few of them turned on us, for protecting the mages. One of them came at me with a broken bottle, of all things. I didn’t want to kill the poor bastard, but while trying to subdue him, he caught me.” He ran a thumb over the scar. He gave a small laugh. “One of the mages offered to heal the wound, so it wouldn’t scar but…” He shrugged. “I declined. In part it was because I probably still didn’t wholly trust the mage, and also because I wanted something as a memory of who I had become.” He sat down on the bed, stripping off his boots. “It’s probably ridiculous—” 

“I think it’s incredible.” I said, softly, settling on the bed and crawling across to wrap my arms around him. “Plus,” I laid some feather light kisses on his shoulders and neck, “it’s rather dashing.” A thump followed my words as his boots hit the floor. He shimmied his hips to take off his breeches, down to nothing but his underclothes. He leaned back into me. 

“You’re not the first one to say that.” He chuckled, turning his body, and taking me in his arms, pulling me against him as he fell back onto the bed. He rolled onto his side, and I curled to him, resting my hands against his chest. 

“Just sleep, you said…” I said with a regretful sigh, running my hands down his flat stomach. I was met with a laugh, and he pulled me closer to him, our legs tangled together. He brought his lips to mine, another hair tangling in my hair, fisting against the nape of my neck, holding me tightly, fiercely. 

“I want to do this right.” He said, pulling his mouth back. His amber eyes burned with an internal fire. 

“Who says what’s right or wrong?” I asked, nipping him gently on the jaw. 

“Do you just want me for my body, Cort’esa?” He murmured, returning the gesture and kissing me on the neck, his stubble grazing my skin. 

“No, but I will admit it is a bonus.” I sighed as he planted kisses along the pulse that thrummed below my jawline. He pulled away—which I pouted at. He laughed. 

“I’m serious, Reina. If I knew that you liked me that day you came here…I never would have…” He seemed almost embarrassed. I put a finger on his lips. 

“I know. It’s not who you are.” I kissed him, hard, but not with the hunger I was anticipating. “It’s part of the reason I like you so much. You’re special. You treat me like you want more from me. You really want _me_.” 

“It frightens me, sometimes, how much I want _more_ from you. When you shared your childhood with me…I want to know more of it. Who you were before, what your home was like, how you were in Orlais…” He seemed like he was about to say more, but he simply kissed me. 

Eventually, we did climb under the covers, and I drifted off quickly in Cullen’s arms, his breathing soft and steady in my ear, my back pressed against his chest.  


	18. A Fly in her Web

I awoke to something poking me in the bum. It took me a moment to realize a few things: One, that thing was Cullen’s erection, and two, someone was pounding on the door below us. 

“Uhhh.” I moaned, rolling over. “I see you’re awake.” 

Cullen snored on beside me. I sat up in bed and prodded him in the side. He awoke slowly, his hair a mess. I didn’t even want to begin thinking of how my own hair looked, probably a tangled knot. 

“Morning.” Cullen groaned, yawning and stretching, before rolling out of bed and standing. He already looked more awake than I felt. It was still dark out; people weren’t supposed to be awake at this hour. 

“You seem, ah…ready for action.” I said, voice heavy, blinking and rubbing my face. He cleared his throat, head glancing down. 

“That ah…happens sometimes.” He looked at me sharply, while pulling on his clothes. “Have you never encountered it, before?” He laced his breeches and I stared at him, trying to process things. 

“What? No…I’ve never spent the night with a man before.” 

This gave him pause. 

“You…you’ve never spent an entire night with a man?” He asked, a strange note in his voice. I shook my head. 

“No. It’s…well, it’s highly unusual for a Cort’esa to sleep with someone after providing pleasure. I already told you; I’ve never pursued a relationship before. I’ve never…had strong feelings for anyone until now.” I yawned and realized the pounding on the door was still happening. “By the four hells, what _is_ it?” 

“Probably one of Leliana’s people, to collect us.” He said with a shrug. I rolled out of bed—much slower than he had—and made my way downstairs. I grabbed my cloak from where I had left it, my dress was still discarded somewhere on Cullen’s floor. I wrapped myself in my cloak and then answered the door, shivering somewhat in the morning chill of the room. 

“Yes?” I asked, somewhat grumpily. I startled the messenger there, who did a double-take at my appearance. 

“Oh! Cort’esa, I…I’m looking for the Commander.” 

“I’m here, Garan.” Cullen appeared over my shoulder, opening the door wider and handing me my dress. “Get ready; we need to leave.” He was already fully dressed; how had he managed that so quickly!? I imagined it had something to do with practice… 

“Oh, er…Sister Leliana bid me fetch you both, to give you final instructions before your journey. I was supposed to go get the Cort’esa after coming here.” 

“Well, as you can see, the Cort’esa is already here. Please, take her things to our mounts. We’ll be out shortly.” Cullen indicated that Garan should enter and directed him to my things. 

“Wait!” I remembered, my brain still trying to catch up to the fact my body was awake. “My travelling clothes.” I plunged into my bags, unceremoniously shoving the dress Cullen had brought down from his room into the bag while taking out the clothes I’d set aside for the journey. Garan waited patiently, then took the bags and left with a nod to the both of us. I stripped off my cloak again, and pulled my riding clothes over my short shift; a pair of high, thick pants and a long-sleeved shirt, which I tucked in to the pants. Cullen looked at me, amused. 

“This is only the second time I’ve ever seen you wear pants.” He said. I nodded. 

“I have never worn them here. I usually save them for long bouts of riding. Riding in a full skirt is a pain. I wouldn’t suggest it.” I said, pulling my cloak over it all. I yawned again, and Cullen took my arm, leading me from his rooms. 

“You really aren’t a morning person.” He stated. 

“I may fall asleep on the horse.” I said with a shrug. “If that happens, please just tie me onto the creature. Probably safer that way.” 

We made our way to the stables, where we found a small party waiting for us; Derek, Leliana and a couple of Leliana’s people, all dressed in dark travelling clothes. There was not even a hint of sun on the horizon; dawn was a long way off. I crossed my arms, cold and annoyed. 

“Alright. My people have been briefed on what will happen.” Leliana said, approaching myself, Cullen and Derek. “But I will give you the outline. They can fill in any details.” 

We were to travel to an inn, the Naked Nug, which stood along the main road, at the crossroads just beyond d’Hessi’s holdings. There, we would prepare for the party; I would be going in with Derek as my escort, after the rest of the Inquisition’s escort, including Cullen. Cullen seemed unhappy to be apart from me, but Leliana continued to explain that this would allow for him to draw most attention. Cullen would mingle, answering questions as representative for the Inquisition—as much as he would at any party—and I would find the Duke of Prisane and hope I could charm him into talking to me. Barring that, I was to follow him and see what he was up to. If I could find some proof of his betrayal, all the better. I had ideas on how to achieve these means, and I felt ready. I had not spent nearly thirteen years amongst the Orlesians to not know who to bribe or how to eavesdrop on someone at a crowded party. However, I was at a disadvantage; I had never been to the Vicomte d’Hessi’s holdings before. I had passed them, once, but the Vicomte had not been available to host my mother and I on our travels. And besides, even if he had, I was not supposed to be recognized. Which was why I was going to wear my Orlesian hat again, to hide my hair. And a mask, to hide my face. My mother and I had usually worn half-masks or gone mask-less amongst the Orlesians; she had wanted us to stand out, to be recognizable for who we were. It was odd to return and not be going back as ‘myself’ in a way. 

“One of my agents will be watching the Inn, to make sure you are not followed, and that the ruse is pulled off.” Leliana said finally. “Any other details, Carmen can cover. She is the lead on this excursion.” She nodded to a darker skinned woman, who I assumed had some Tevinter blood, due to her dark colouring. Carmen smiled at us, a soft smile. I did not fail to note the daggers protruding from her belt, hardly visible beneath the folds of her cloak. 

“Sounds rather straight forward.” Cullen said, ever the soldier. Leliana turned to me. 

“We’ve given you the title Lady Veridianne. You are a landless noble, married to the widower Lord Veridianne. He is—or _was_ —a real noble, but he died only a week ago. You will tell everyone you only married a month ago, and unfortunately, he died before he could see his lands returned. It’s not an unlikely story and will make you sniffing around other rich bachelors an excellent cover, as you are now in the market for a new husband.” 

“Will I be asked about Lord Veridianne, or my background?” I asked, allowing Cullen to help me mount my horse. Leliana shook her head. 

“If you are, you can simply claim that before you had a chance to learn about your new husband, he died. And as for your backstory, you were the third daughter of a lesser noble family, sent to the Chantry, when you saw Lord Veridianne passing one day and fell in love. He, taken by your beauty, stole you away.” She shrugged. “Most will see this as either a sweet cover-up story, and think you are just an unfortunate sister who laid with the wrong man and married to save face, or something else.” 

“Holes in my story will only make it more interesting and believable.” I nodded. “I remember. I will make sure I play a believable grieving widow. How old was Lord Veridianne?” 

“Nearly eighty.” 

“Andraste’s mercy! It’s no surprise I outlived my late husband.” I laughed, my voice heavy with an Orlesian accent. 

“Very good.” Leliana smiled slightly. “You have three more days to perfect it.” 

“I don’t know, it sounded scarily accurate to me.” Cullen nudged his horse alongside mine. 

“Why thank you, Commander.” I kept the accent, affecting my tones with the appropriate musical lilt I had decided to adopt. “I am so flattered you think so.” I was waking up now, my task ahead of me clear. Cullen made a face. 

“I’m beginning to regret saying I’d come…I’m already having flashbacks to Empress Celene’s ball.” 

Leliana laughed. “Don’t say that too loud, I don’t think the Inquisitor would take to kindly to having been convinced to let you go, only to find you do not actually wish to go. It is too late now. Good luck!” She stepped back and waved us off as we set off after her people. 

*** 

It did not snow on the journey, which was nice, and meant we were able to set up camp instead of seeking out farmsteads and inns. I didn’t mind camping; part of my training as a Cort’esa had been to go out into the desert and survive for a week. Having the protection of trees and the wood for a fire made things easier. We had three tents between the seven of us; Cullen and Derek shared one, I shared with Carmen, and the last tent was shared between the last three of Leliana’s men. I didn’t mind it, though I would have preferred the warmth of Cullen’s arms at night. It was only for two nights though. 

We arrived in perfect time, riding up to the inn—its sign sporting a skinned nug roasting over a fire—mid-afternoon on the third day. 

“We will only need one room.” Cullen stated to the Inn keeper, who seemed intrigued that we would be cramming seven people into a small room. I was already sporting my hat, not wanting to draw attention to my foreign-ness. Derek too sported an Orlesian hat. The others all wore travelling clothes. 

We made our way to the rooms to drop off our things, then went back down to the dining hall of the inn to get warm food and drink before the party. 

“It’s not the drink I had in mind when I made the offer…” Cullen said, sliding a tankard of mead to me and the others. His words were meant only for me. 

“I just assumed we were postponing that until we returned.” I kept the Orlesian accent I had adopted over the past three days, not wanting to give away my heritage. I was in disguise and I took it seriously. Cullen grimaced. 

“I really wish you’d stop that.” He took a sip of his drink while we waited for our meals. 

“I cannot.” I said. “I have a job to do, and I take it very seriously. Don’t worry, when we return home, I will be back to normal.” I gave him a wink. He looked at me quizzically. 

“I believe that’s the first time you referred to Skyhold as home.” 

I paused and opened my mouth to speak, then shut it, blushing. 

“What?” Cullen asked, smiling. 

“I…I hadn’t considered it home until recently.” I met his eyes, meaning heavy in my words. His smile grew and he leaned across the table to grab my hand, giving it a squeeze. 

Our food arrived not too long after, and was not a poor fare, for a place that had a roasting nug on their sign. We all ate in silence, then traipsed back up to the rooms to prepare for the evening. I had to get Derek help me re-wrap ridiculous hair, since it was coming out of its braids, baby-fine strands of lilac tickling around my face. That would not do; I almost wished I had some ink with which to colour it, temporarily. I said as much, tucking another strand away under the swath of gold and cream silk that wrapped around my head. I would top it off with a purple hat eventually. Cullen made a noise. 

“Don’t colour your hair. It’s beautiful as it is.” 

“You don’t have to deal with it.” I grumbled back. Still, I was only partially serious; I adored my hair and would not do anything to permanently ruin it. 

“We will see you at the party, in a few hours.” Carmen said eventually. She and the rest of her group had changed; she was sporting a jacket and sash and pants, her dark hair pulled back into a twist on top of her head. One of her other men was dressed similarly. The last two were not changed; they would be remaining as spies outside the walls. 

Cullen took my breath away; he was wearing a dark red coat and pale grey pants, with gold epaulets which just reflected light onto his hair, which looked even more golden set against the stunning ruby of his jacket. He tugged at the jacket in question, adjusted the sash, and sighed. 

“I feel like a sausage wrapped in too much casing.” He sighed. I laughed, standing and going to him. 

“Well, you’re a very handsome sausage.” I refrained from kissing him, instead straightening his sash. 

“Will I recognize you, when you arrive?” He asked, apprehensive. “You will be in a mask…” 

I reached to the bed and put the ridiculous purple hat/mask on top of it all. Cullen laughed. 

“Yes, I will recognize you. That is a very Orlesian mask.” 

“It is a monstrosity.” I echoed his previous sigh. “And it weighs a ton. But it also goes very well with my dress and, well, I must look stylish if I aim to find my future spouse.” I added a bit more flippancy to my voice than usual. Cullen just shook his head. 

“You are too much. We will see you in an hour. If you do not arrive by then, I will be sending Carmen to find you.” 

“We will be there.” I said. “Don’t worry.” 

The three of them left, dressed to impress, looking out of place with their gala finery in the simple tavern. They would leave through the back-door, to be less conspicuous. The two spies who would remain outside of d’Hessi’s estate left as well, to see them off. One of them would follow them to the gala as a servant, and then disappear. The other would do the same for Derek and I. 

“Do you need help lacing up that dress?” Derek asked. He’d not yet changed into his clothes, but they required less time than mine. I had about three more layers than he did. 

“I need help with it all, Derek.” I shook my head. “I’d forgotten how stupid all the clothes are.” 

I stripped out of my travelling clothes into a thin shift. On top of that went a pair of bloomers, cinched at the knee with lace frills. On top of that went a petticoat, and a plunging corset, which Derek helped lace tight. My bust was practically falling out when he finished. I leaned down to pull the larger petticoat, to fill out my skirt, over top of my other bottoms, and Derek snickered. I glanced at him, puzzled. 

“I’ll say this; if you were truly looking for a husband, you’re sure to find him in this.” He shook his head. “Cullen might just pass out when he sees you.” 

I laughed at him, tying the waist of my skirt, which severely limited the space around me. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. And besides, that’s the point; Leliana said the Duke of Prisane is a bachelor and known to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh, though, really, I don’t know many Orlesian nobles who don’t.” I pulled the dress over my head, making sure not to disturb my hair. Derek circled me, making sure the dress fell in the right places and then helping me lace the back. The neckline went to my belly button, the corset below holding everything up. I triple checked my hair, that it was all tucked away, and then put the large purple hat on top of it all. To finish it off was the mask, hiding all but my mouth. 

“You look hilarious.” Derek laughed. “That’s the stupidest mask. Goddess, do I not miss Orlais.” 

He dressed then, his clothes just as extravagantly coloured as mine; a short cape edge in gold, silk gloves, bright, tight breeches. On top of it all, he also pulled a hat and mask, to hide his own foreign colouring. We looked the parts for this gala. I repressed a small thrill to be returning; perhaps it was the extravagant clothes, or the fact I’d been away for a few months, but I was actually excited. 

A knock came at the door and our escort entered. 

“You are ready?” He asked, closing the door behind him. We nodded, and I slipped on my gloves. “Then let us go.” 

We exited out the back door, making our way down the back stairs to where our horses waited, prepared by Leliana’s final man. On the ride here, I’d learned his name was Hadin. We mounted; it was shortly after twilight now and made our way to the estate. 

*** 

“Now presenting; Lady Veridianne and Ser Hastings.” The page announced to the room at large. Most were not listening anymore, but I saw a couple faces near the door turn to see who was arriving to the party. Some seemed intrigued, following me with their eyes as I descended the stairs to the main ballroom, others finding me wanting, continuing their conversations. 

We entered the ballroom, bustling with people. Music was playing over the crowd, soft strings and wind instruments to set the mood. The dancing would not begin until later. 

Derek followed along behind me, keeping an appropriate distance, and I went and sought a drink. There were so many people…I tried to remember the description of Prisane that Leliana had given and realized it would not matter, should he be wearing a mask. I would have to find him on my own. Perhaps, if he had arrived after Cullen, I could casually ask Cullen if he’d seen him…I needed a reason to speak to Cullen first, since we should not know one another. 

“Lady Veridianne, so glad you could make it!” d’Hessi, the host, approached, his wife, the Vicomptesse, at his side. Both were dressed in white and black, with red accents. They made a handsome couple. I approached, kissing them both on the cheek in the usual Orlesian fashion. 

“I am honoured to be here, Vicompte d’Hessi.” I purred. “I have heard stories of your fabled soirees.” I drew away. “I have heard rumours that even the Inquisition has sent a representative!” It was true; I had heard snippets of this among the other guests milling about in the gardens as I had entered. D’Hessi’s wife nodded. 

“It is true. While it is not the Inquisitor, they have sent the Commander of the Inquisition forces. He used to be a templar.” She sounded impressed. I added an appropriate gasp and titter. 

“Goodness, an ex-templar! How formidable.” I gushed. 

“I was sad to hear of your husband’s passing, Lady Veridianne.” The Vicompte said. “Though, I had not heard he had remarried.” 

I waved a hand, taking a sip of my drink in its fluted glass. “It was a rushed affair. I believe he suspected he did not have much time left.” I shrugged. “I am just happy that he lived long enough to happily wed me, that his last days were full of love.” 

“That is so charming!” the Vicomptesse cooed. “Your dedication to his memory…it will not prevent you from introducing yourself to eligible bachelors, however, no?” 

I shook my head. “Of course not. The late Lord Veridianne would understand. It would not hurt to at least make it known I am available.” 

“Well, there are a great deal of wonderful Lords here this evening…and even a few unmarried Dukes and Earls. Depending on your dowry…” she shrugged, “perhaps they will take interest. You certainly are young and beautiful.” 

“I thank you for the compliment, Vicomptesse.” I bowed my head. She steered me to a group of other women, all talking and tittering, gossiping, and explained to them my unfortunate circumstances. After a brief period of sympathetic cooing, the ladies began pointing out all the bachelors in the room. I dismissed Derek, who would not be far, making sure to keep me within his sights at all times. 

“That is Lord Deveraux. He is _not_ a bachelor, but he pays his mistresses a weighty sum and makes sure they are well-cared for.” A woman in a bird mask suggested. I nodded, hoping someone might point out the Duke of Prisane. “And there is the Lord Simon—” 

“Oh, you do not want to marry Lord Simon!” 

“Why not?” I asked, glancing at the man in question. 

“He is only the third son of a lesser house. I am surprised he was even invited to the party. Though, I suppose he and the Vicompte do hunt together quite a lot.” 

“Are there any…Dukes or Earls?” I suggested casually. “I have a generous dowry.” 

“Ooh, do you?” One of the women giggled. “Why didn’t you say so?” 

“It makes sense; Lord Veridianne was quite rich, even if his lands were forfeited.” 

This went on for a couple moments. I tried to pay attention, but my patience was waning. Being away from this sort of frivolity had made me unaccustomed to it. 

“Oh, of course! The Duke of Prisane! He is quite young, and handsome, and has a great many friends all over Orlais. He is quite popular with the ladies though. You may have some competition.” The other women nodded knowingly. I shrugged. 

“My last husband was nearly three times my age. There are sacrifices to be made in marriage.” I said. 

“Too true, in fact…” this sent the women off onto stories of their ‘sacrifices’ they’d made for their husbands; one woman had stopped speaking to her husband for a week after she’d caught him sleeping with one of her maids, only because the girl had been wearing her stockings. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. 

“Which one is the Duke of Prisane?” I asked, waiting for a break in the conversation. 

“Ah, he is the one in the sun mask.” 

I spotted him almost immediately; he was dressed in bright yellows and golds and reds and oranges and wore a mask that covered only the left half of his face. I listened to the women a bit longer, complaining of trivial things the way only Orlesian noblewomen could. Finding my glass empty, I wove through the crowd away from them, my excuse being I wanted another drink. I timed it perfectly and found myself beside the Duke, who was getting himself a drink as well and one of the small hors-d’oeuvres from their gold and silver trays. As I approached, I set my glass down. The Duke, seeing I was wanting for a drink, passed me another flute of the sparkling liquid. 

“Thank you, ser.” I bowed more than necessary, letting my breasts spill forward, offering a wonderful view to the lord. His eyes were not on my face as I rose; _got you_ I thought. 

“Duke of Prisane, at your service.” He reached for my free hand, kissing me on the back of my gloved hand. 

“Lady Veridianne, a true pleasure.” I said, giggling. 

“Ah, yes, you are recently widowed, are you not?” He released my hand. “And so young…” 

I sighed. “Yes. My late husband was so looking forward to coming to the ball but…” I shook my head. “It is unfortunate he could not be here.” 

“My condolences. How are you enjoying the party?” He asked. He was keen, not even allowing a pause between his so-called condolences and more personal questions. 

“It is nice to be out amongst people again. I shall not lie; my late husband enjoyed keeping me to himself, as short a time as we were together. I think he was afraid someone might steal me away.” I laughed. 

“He probably had reason…a beauty like you does not stay lonely for long.” “I shall keep you company, Lady.” He said, slipping a hand around my waist. 

_This was too easy…_

I giggled and let him lead me away, allowing him to introduce me to people around us. As Leliana had predicted, very few asked me about my personal life, instead asking me about my prospects; had the Lord Veridianne left me with much, considering he was landless? The Duke seemed to grow more impressed when I explained that, alas, the Lord Veridianne had left me his entire estate, landless as he was; jewels and money and a great many horses and other valuables. 

“He set me up wonderfully for a life after he passed.” I shook my head sadly. “I am so lucky.” 

The music started then, and I finished my drink. The Duke held out a hand. 

“Would you honor me with a dance?” He asked. I tittered; I had not drunk as much as I could, but I acted a bit tipsier than was necessary, almost throwing myself into his arms. 

“I’d be delighted!” 

He led me to the dance floor, holding me as close as the volume of my skirt would allow. We danced with other couples; the dance was a faster-paced number and did not allow for a great deal of talking as there were also a few partner changes. When I found my way back to the Duke, he held me a bit tighter. We danced another dance after that. When it finished, I told the Duke I was parched and needed another drink; we exited the dance floor, as did a few other couples, other dancers taking their place. Another song began, and we drank and chatted about menial things…he seemed to be losing a bit of interest. 

That was when Cullen appeared. 

I was turning to put down my glass when I nearly bumped right into him. 

“My apologies, my lady.” He said formally, then, seeing who I was, stopped. I watched his jaw jump, eyes flicking down the front of my bodice, and I offered a hand to him, the Duke looking on over my shoulder. 

“Oh, it is no bother, ser…?” He took my hand, bowing, brushing his lips against the back of my hand, his breath warm on the silk. 

“Commander Cullen, of the Inquisition.” He said, standing and swallowing. 

“Lady Veridianne.” I said, eyes meeting his through my mask. He looked _awfully_ flustered. 

“Might I have the next dance, Lady Veridianne? That is,” he looked over my shoulder, “if your partner doesn’t mind?” 

“How could I say no to the Inquisition?” The Duke said amicably back, though I noticed his hand tighten slightly. I leaned in, placing a hand on his arm. 

“Don’t worry; I’m your as soon as the dance is over.” I whispered. This seemed to please him, and he sipped his drink as I turned away, allowing Cullen to lead me through the crowd to the dance floor. 

“He seems quite taken with you.” He said, leaning his head in close to mine. I laughed. 

“No need to get jealous; I’m doing my job.” 

“I think the dress is doing most of the work.” He swallowed, drawing back his head, his eyes flicking down the front of me for a moment, the second time that night. This time, he took a bit more time. “Andraste have mercy, it goes down to your navel!” 

I laughed again. “I take it you like it?” I took a deep breath—as deep as my corset allowed—and my chest pressed upward. He let out a breath. 

“You are a dangerous woman.” 

“You’ve said that before.” I replied evenly, meeting his eyes. 

“I happen to be quite taken with dangerous women.” 

The dance was over too quickly, and we bowed to one another. The Duke was already at my elbow, which he took, leading me off the dancefloor. I resisted the urge to tear away from him and go back to Cullen. He was leading us out to the garden. I spotted Derek following at a distance, and I signaled him to stay unseen, but to follow. 

“He seemed quite taken with you.” The repetition of the words almost made me laugh. Instead, I slipped my elbow from his grasp, letting my hand fall into his. 

“Perhaps, but it is no matter to me.” I shrugged. “It never hurts to be well-thought of by the Inquisition. They have been rewarding a great deal of favours.” 

“They won’t be around forever.” He said, as we made our way deeper into the gardens. 

“No? I suppose not.” 

He deigned not to answer, and I waited for the next opportunity to press him to divulge his true feelings about the Inquisition. We emerged into a small section of the gardens, lit by some lanterns, reflecting off a small pool with a fountain. It was quite romantic, and I wanted to be anywhere else, Or here, with someone else. 

“How beautiful!” I gasped, approaching the fountain. I slipped off a glove, dipping long fingers into the water. “It’s so warm.” 

The Duke came up behind me, placing a hand on my waist, his mask hanging loosely in one hand. I straightened, turning to him, acting shy. 

“Ser—” 

“Call me Niall.” He said, leaning in, his hand wrapping around the back of my dress. He leaned his head down to graze his lips against my collar bone. “What should I call you?” 

“Melodie. This…is highly inappropriate…” I resisted somewhat, playing the demure lady. I needed to keep him entertained, but I my heart was not in it. He continued to kiss along my throat and neck. “Melodie…will you not take off your mask? I want to see how beautiful you truly are…” He murmured against my neck. I sighed into his kisses, wondering how long I could draw this out for. I didn’t want anything to actually happen with him. 

A figure stepped from the path we had just come from, moments before, and I squeaked, startled. It was only half-acted; I hope it wasn’t Derek, stumbling into us, or some other party-goer. The Duke straightened and turned to face the intruder. 

“Niall…” The man’s voice was low. “You did not forget about our meeting?” He asked. The Duke shook his head. My heart lifted; was this one of the Duke’s conspirators? Or just an acquaintance? 

“No. I just figured that, while I waited, I might enjoy myself.” He put his mask back on and turned to me. “Melodie, my dear, why don’t we pick this up in my chambers?” I glanced at him coyly through the slit eye holes of my mask, and told him that I would meet him there. _Perfect. I could have every excuse to go through his things._ He gave me directions to his rooms. Before he turned away, I grabbed his wrist. 

“When…should I expect you?” I needed to know how long I’d have in his rooms, alone. He grinned beneath his half-mask, clearly pleased I sounded so eager. 

“I shall be as quick as I can, my sweet. No more than a half hour.” _More than enough time_ …I could get Derek to delay the Duke, or stand guard while I scoured the man’s room. I watched him leave and then set off, alone back to the party, where light and music and laughter was flowing across the gardens. 

Everything would have gone perfectly too, if I hadn’t run into another Cort’esa.


	19. Shizelle

Her hair was yellow, the colour of a sunflower, and made her identity unmistakable. I stifled a gasp and approached her, trying to slow my too-quick steps and heart. She was speaking to a group of men, laughing, smiling. She’d grown so much…I placed a hand on her elbow, and she turned to smile at me, eyes empty, ready to placate another noble. I leaned in and she turned her ear to me; having Orlesian women ask for clandestine meetings had not been a surprise to me, either, in my time in the courts. 

“Shizelle, don’t react. It’s me, Reina.” To her credit, her only reaction was a slight hitch in her breath and an unavoidable paling of her face. “Come with me.” 

She nodded, turned and handed off her glass to one of the men she’d been entertaining. “Sorry, gentlemen, I have an engagement to keep.” Her voice was still heavily accented, though she spoke the common tongue well. 

She followed me through the crowd. I saw Cullen watch me, a frown on his face, looking concerned and shocked. I turned to Derek, who had caught up to me, his eyes fixed on Shizelle. He would not bring attention to her, but I paused, leaning toward him. 

“Tell Cullen that he needs to delay the Duke. Then come stand guard of the room.” The only indication he’d heard me was the briefest nod, a simple inclination of his head, before he peeled off from us, in the direction of Cullen and Carmen. 

We pushed through the crowd, Shizelle and I, until we left the main ballroom to the foyer, where fewer guests were gathered, laughing and talking away from the crowds. I followed the Duke’s directions and made my way to the stairs that led up to the higher levels of the Vicompte’s home. There were a few couples on the balconies, either talking or locked in embraces, too caught up to even make it to a bedroom. I ignored them all, seeking the Duke’s chambers. I found them, and eased inside, drawing Shizelle along with me. Once the door was closed, I slipped off my mask. I wanted Shizelle to see my face. I turned to her. 

“Reina, it is you!” She gasped, throwing her arms around me, despite my dress, slipping into our mother tongue. “But what are you doing here? Where’s Seraphina? Was that Derek?” 

“I can’t go into too much detail. My mother…was killed two years ago. That was indeed Derek, though we are here in disguise tonight. It is so good to see you!” I pulled tight in my arms. She was wearing a pink dress, which made her look younger than her twenty years. 

“I figured as much.” She drew away from me, looking around. “I take it we aren’t in the Duke’s rooms without a reason?” She asked. I forgot how quick she was. I shook my head. 

“No. The Duke told me to wait for him here.” 

“He doesn’t know who you are, does he?” She asked. Again, I shook my head. 

“No. He thinks I’m a wealthy widow who desires to remarry. I need to find proof he is double crossing the Inquisition.” 

“I can help.” She said. “I know where the Orlesians keep a lot of their secrets.” 

“You don’t have to do that, Shizelle—” 

“If you find what you’re looking for, then we can talk longer.” She said with a small smile. “I want to know everything.” 

“I want to know what happened to you, as well.” 

Her faced darkened. 

“No, you really don’t.” 

I felt a stab of apprehension; what had occurred, to have her darken at the mere mention of her past? And why was she here, in Orlais? I turned away, and we started to search through the Duke’s things, making sure to keep everything exactly as it had been while we searched. 

“How did you know this was the Duke’s room?” I asked, after a moment of searching. 

“He invited me to his chambers last night. He is a horny bastard, I can tell you that. Hopefully you can give him the slip before you need to lay with him; his cock-hair smells _terrible._.” She sounded disgusted. I snorted at her vulgarity. 

“That is the plan.” I murmured. 

Eventually, we found what we were looking for tucked inside the sole of an old boot. Shizelle held up the pages, shuffling them. 

“Reina, these are written in a very complex code. It’s numerical.” Her eyebrows knit together, and her lips moved, trying to make out the message. She looked up at me, shaking her head. “I’d need to sit down with it, to break it completely, but there is definitely a repeated word in here that, based on a cursory glance, _might_ be making reference to the Inquisition.” She smiled, handing me the papers. “I remember how terrible you were with numbers.” 

I laughed. “Thanks for reminding me.” I took the pages bearing the Duke’s signature, along with a few other signatures of other nobles. “This is perfect, if it is what you think it is.” 

I checked the fancy timepiece beside the Duke’s bed. We’d been searching for nearly a half hour. Time was running out, if the Duke showed up when he promised. I tucked the pages into the top of my glove. It was uncomfortable, but better than them being seen. 

“We need to go.” I said, putting on my mask and leaving the room, towing Shizelle behind me. 

“I’m going to deliver these to Derek and he’ll make sure they get to the right hands. I’ll meet you in the servant’s quarters. We can speak more freely there.” 

“Sounds good.” She nodded, leaning forward and kissing my cheeks, Orlesian style. Shizelle disappeared out the door and I followed, heading in the opposite direction, back to the party. Derek was standing by the bottom of the stairs, a glass in his hand. I approached. 

“There you are, Hastings.” I stood in front of him. “Ah, you brought me a drink.” I took the glass from his hand, lifting it to my mouth and draining the last of the liquid, my other hand going to the top of my glove, where I eased the pages out, slightly. Derek nodded, reaching for my elbow as I lowered the glass, his other hand taking the empty drinking vessel as he slipped the pages from my glove and into his own sleeve. “I would like another drink, Hastings. Please fetch it for me.” 

“Immediately, my lady.” He bowed, and disappeared, the papers tucked into his own sleeve. I smiled after him, then disappeared. He would find me, I was sure. There were only so many placed I could be, and I needed to find Shizelle. My job here was done and she might have news of home! 

I made my way to the servant’s quarters, and immediately spotted Shizelle as I descended to the lower levels. She shone, even in the darkness of the servant’s hall. She turned as I approached and indicated I should follow her. We made our way past the kitchens, bustling with people—servants loading up trays, cooks whipping up food—and down the hall to an empty store room. She reached for a lantern, dust-covered on an otherwise empty table, the only furniture in the bare room. She lit it with a whispered word. I’d forgotten she’d been incredibly blessed by the goddess Solmera with the power to ignite flame. 

“Reina I still can’t believe it’s you!” Shizelle said in a hushed whisper. The sound of her smooth Vermahnese made me grin; I’d heard no one speak it but Derek in two years. She reached for my hand, after placing the lantern on the table. “Everyone thought you dead! Chiral made it seem so.” 

I shook my head. “Derek helped me and my mother escape.” 

“But…she died here, in Orlais?” She shook her head. “When I first arrived, I had heard rumours there had been another Cort’esa at court, a few years ago, before me but…I did not imagine it was you. I thought it might have been another who’d escaped. I hadn’t dared hope…” She was weeping silently. “Goddess, I’m so sorry. I just…it’s been so long since I saw another Cort’esa.” 

“Derek got some reports once we escaped but I didn’t hear much. My mother…wished to protect me.” I removed my mask again. “Won’t you tell me what happened?” 

Shizelle turned from me, arms wrapping around herself. “I…can hardly speak of it. But you deserve to know.” She took a deep breath, visibly bolstering herself. “After Chiral killed your father, he slaughtered all the other members of the Council. He took over the Cort’esa order. The titled Cort’esa were… _assigned_ to men and women who supported Chiral. The trainees…we were told to continue learning. Not much changed for us, save that we knew we were no longer destined to become Cort’esa. Not the Cort’esa we respected and admired. Chiral twisted it. The Cort’esa order…we became little more than whores. No longer sought after for our numerous skills, we were just…” 

“I know.” I breathed. “I picked up that much from Derek and mother’s conversations.” 

“Some of the girls tried to run away. They were beaten. A few of them were killed, to make an example. I was only seven. I didn’t know what to do. Some of the older girls, the ones who didn’t try to run, tried to protect us, helped us keep to our studies, as much as possible. It was hard though. Most of the senior Cort’esa instructors were sent into the desert. Exiled.” Which meant they were dead; to be sent into the desert as an exile was a death sentence, unless you somehow managed to survive the journey, with no food or water or shelter, to the nearest city which was five days away on foot. “Cort’esa training changed. We were taught a new history. It…portrayed your father and the Council in a terrible light.” She shook her head. “Anyways, we were to start taking patrons to bed at fourteen.” 

“Fourteen!” I shuddered. “You can’t be serious!” 

Shizelle nodded gravely. “One of the girls—Temla—was taken at thirteen.” 

I wanted to retch, to scream and cry. 

“Chiral was taken with me. I became a part of his harem, so to speak.” She cast her eyes away. She seemed ashamed. I went to her. 

“Shizelle, none of this was your fault—” 

“I know!” She hissed, face crumpling. “I know that.” She took a shuddering breath, refusing to crumble. “That’s not even the worst of what happened.” 

I braced myself. 

“Chiral started trading with the Pirese.” The Pirese were little more than pirates, marauders. They’d been trying to fell my father’s kingdom for generations. “He sold many of the Cort’esa to them. Including me. I spent just over year on their ship.” Her voice was void of emotion; I could not begin to fathom what she’d gone through. “Then, they sold me to a Tevinter slaver. I escaped from him, using what little skill I had picked up in Vermahna to get to Orlais…where I was taken in by the Vicompte d’Hessi.” A slight smile met her lips. “He and his wife have been beacons in all this. I…entertain his guests and they allow me to live here. It’s not perfect but it’s safer than it was.” She turned a tear streaked face to me. I took her in my arms, holding her tight. She embraced me in turn. 

“What about you?” She asked, after a moment, drawing away and wiping her face, trying to smile. 

“Well, after Chiral slaughtered my father, Derek helped me and my mother escape. We lived in Orlais for a while. My mother made sure to maintain my training, while also using her own skills to impress the Orlesians, garnering us a place of respect in court. Then, two years ago, Chiral sent an assassin.” I said bitterly. “I escaped, again thanks to Derek, but my mother was killed. We were on the run for a while, then I found my way to the Inquisition.” I shrugged. “I’m here on a mission for them, actually.” 

Shizelle sighed. “I’m so happy to hear you live. I…I know it’s asking a lot, but do you think I could come with you, back to the Inquisition? I…d’Hessi is wonderful but I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.” Her voice cracked. I reached for her, to comfort her. 

That was when the door burst open, and a masked man entered, brandishing a knife. I thrust Shizelle behind me. 

“Who are you? What is the meaning of this?” I asked in my most pretentious voice. 

“I’ve come for the Cort’esa. Chiral wants her back.” 

My heart dropped into my stomach, and I realized what had happened; word must have spread of Shizelle being here and she was being mistaken for _me_. My heart hardened and I steeled myself. _No one would die again because of me._

I took a deep breath and started screaming. 

_“HELP!_ ” I backed away from the man, keeping Shizelle behind me. “Stay away!” 

The man approached anyways. He was not Vermahnese, which meant he’d likely been paid off by one of Chiral’s men. He might not even be very skilled… 

He lunged forward, and I spun aside, pushing Shizelle out from behind me, toward the door. 

_“Go!_ ” I shouted, in our tongue. “Find Derek.” 

She made for the door, but the man with the knife lunged at her, grabbing at her. I threw myself on him. 

“I only need the Cort’esa!” He shouted, elbowing back at me, catching me in the side. “Leave her to me, or I’ll make you regret it.” 

I bit him—hard—on the shoulder and he yelped, releasing Shizelle, who fell forward, not expecting to be free. 

He turned on me and stabbed forward with the knife. I tried to move aside, but my stupid skirt was too cumbersome. I saw, more than felt, his blade sink into my upper arm. Still, I lifted that arm with a jerk, smashing into his elbow, jarring his hand. I swung across with my other arm, grasping his wrist and squeezing. All that was in my brain was to get the knife away from him. 

He dropped it, and it fell to the stone floor, lost beneath my skirt, at least for the moment. 

He gave a cry and lashed out at me, striking me square on the chin, uncovered by my mask. I fell back, stunned, my head cracking against the wall behind me. My swaths of fabric helped my head, ever so slightly, cushioning the impact. It still hurt, dazing me even more than his first blow. 

The man reached for my neck, knife forgotten. 

“Why did you interfere! Stupid woman!” He growled. I clasped my own hands around his wrists, squeezing, willing him to stop. Then I remembered the pin that I had in my hair wrap, holding the entire thing together. I released one wrist, feeling the pressure of his fingers around my throat, tight and deadly. I couldn’t choke, I couldn’t cry out. I needed to get that hair pin… 

It was tangled in the folds, jostled by the dancing, jarred tighter by my fall, and I could see black spots dancing in my eyes as I frantically worked it free. 

I finally released the pin, about the length of my hand, and I stabbed it into my assailant’s eye. He screamed, a truly inhuman sound, falling away from me, scrabbling at his eye, spurting blood. I reached for the knife he’d dropped, misinterpreted how far it was, and sent it skittering across the floor. My assailant heard it and lunged for it as I made my way unsteadily to my feet, throat raw, coughing. 

“You bitch.” He didn’t have the chance to say more, as suddenly a sword was pressed against his neck. 

“Drop your weapon.” Cullen’s voice was hard steel. The man froze, and then complied. Cullen brought his sword hilt down—hard—on the man’s head, knocking him out cold. I slumped against the wall, my hand going to my bleeding arm. Cullen rushed forward, Derek quick on his heels, Shizelle behind them both. Two of d’Hessi’s personal guards remained in the hall; the room was beginning to be quite cramped. I smiled up at Cullen. 

“I did better, this time. No one died.” 

“There shouldn’t have been another time!” He snapped, examining my arm. “You are going to need stitches.” 

“No she won’t.” Shizelle offered helpfully from the door. Derek was passing the unconscious attacker off to the two guards to be dealt with. “She can just heal herself.” 

My heart froze. 

_Goddess…Shizelle! Why?_

Cullen met my eyes. His expression was hard to read; fear and anger and suspicion. I hoped they had less to do with me and more to do with the attack. 

“What is she talking about?” 

I swallowed and brushed his hand away from my wound. “I have healing magic.” I cupped my hand around my wound, willing the flesh to knit. I couldn’t restore lost blood, but I could at least heal the wound. 

Cullen watched, jaw rigid, as the bleeding slowed. I dropped my hand and all that remained was a torn bloodstained sleeve, the skin beneath impossibly smooth. He sat back on his heels, then stood. He turned to Shizelle. 

“Who are you?” He demanded. Shizelle, eyes wide, stammered out her name. 

“She’s a Cort’esa, like me.” I stood. I was still dazed, and the healing had drained my energy a bit. I was unsteady on the wall, and I reached for the table to support myself. “The attacker was here for her. A case of mistaken identity.” I looked past Cullen to my friend. “I’m so sorry, Shizelle. I never expected—” 

“It’s not your fault.” She said softly, shaking her head. “None of us expected this.” 

“I did.” I sighed. “I was attacked in Skyhold, not a week ago.” Shizelle’s eyes went wide. 

“Chiral really does want you back…” she shook her head, this time in disbelief. “I guess since your mother is no longer available—” 

I laughed sourly. “I’ll die before I let that happen.” 

Cullen listened to the whole exchange silently, face impassive. I sensed he was upset, but was it because I had been attacked, as he’d feared, or because I’d kept a secret from him? I suspected it was a bit of both. 

“Did Derek get the papers to you?” I asked Cullen. He nodded stiffly. “Good, then we can go. I would like Shizelle to come with us, under the protection of the Inquisition.” 

“I cannot approve that.” He replied evenly. 

I sighed. “Fine. I still want her to come with us. If it is believed she is me, this won’t be the only attack on her.” 

“It may be safer if she is spirited away and sent somewhere else.” Derek suggested from the hall, returning. “Also, Vicompte d’Hessi is on his way, and is distressed.” 

“Of course he is.” I muttered. I blinked, trying to regain myself. I pressed my palms to my eyes. “I will speak with him.” I reached for my mask, discarded on the table, the lantern casting its shadow on the wall. I pulled it over my head. 

“You should not speak to the Vicompte in this state.” Cullen said. Still, he did not reach for me. “I will speak to him. I’ll simply say you were attacked, and I was speaking with your manservant when Shizelle came to fetch him, and the guard.” 

“But why was she attacked?” I retorted. 

“Because I am you.” Shizelle stated. “I can tell the Vicompte that I am the heir to the Vermahnese throne. He will be more likely to let me leave then, as well.” 

“It works. Plus, her story doesn’t need to change much. She can just say she escaped Vermahna and ended up in Orlais and was trying to lay low to stay safe.” Derek said, nodding. “It’s a good idea.” 

“And how do I fit into it?” I asked. 

“Wrong place, wrong time. You were trying to get a little friendly with the exotic creature here, and the attacker set upon you. Being the selfless person that you are, you fought to free the girl, and were harmed in the process.” 

I nodded. It was simple enough. 

“We need to leave though. This will probably distract the Duke from his missing papers, but not for long. We need to make our way back to the Inquisition.” Cullen said, turning out into the hall, pushing past Derek. 

Oh, he was furious. 

I followed, and Shizelle took my hand. 

The Vicompte emerged into the servant’s quarters just as we were making our way to the stairs. 

“Lady Veridianne!” He rushed down the stairs. “I am so terribly sorry you were attacked. My men have locked the man up in a closet, he will not be going anywhere.” He took stock of me. “What happened?” 

“I was trying to get to know your delightful acquisition here,” I nodded to Shizelle, “in a _quiet_ area, when the man set upon her! I tried to fight him off, to free her. Thankfully, she is very smart and went for my manservant and the guards. The Commander was with them and leant his help.” I shrugged. “I’m alright though.” 

“Your arm!” He said. “You’re covered in blood.” 

“Oh, he just nicked me.” I smiled warily. “I stabbed him in the eye, though.” The silk swaths of my head wrap were secured—not too securely—in place by my mask, but it would not hold long. I needed to get out before my identity was given away. 

“It’s my fault.” Shizelle stepped forward and knelt. “I’m afraid I lied to you, Vicompte. I am not…who I said I was. It is true I am from Vermahna but I am not a simple Cort’esa…I am the heir to the Vermahnese throne.” The Vicompte gasped. “The man who overthrew my father, Chiral…he has been trying to get me back home. To use me as a pawn in his game.” She lied so effortlessly, even I wanted to believe her, her voice was so full of anguish and regret. “The Lady Veridianne has offered to find me a place of sanctuary, so that I might remain better hidden.” 

“That seems the best course of action.” The Vicompte agreed. “You…are certain you wish to help her, after what befell you?” He asked me. I nodded. 

“I know people in the Chantry. The Cort’esa will be safer there, an anonymous sister.” 

“So long as you are sure.” 

I nodded again, firmly. “I am sure.” 

“Well then, I will be sad to see you leave, the both of you. It was…entertaining to have you as our guest, Shizelle. It is unfortunate you did not trust us to tell us the truth of your identity, before it came to this.” 

Cullen snorted behind me, which he turned into a cough. I repressed a sigh. 

“I suggest you leave through the servant’s quarters, so as not to cause a stir.” The Vicompte suggested. I nodded. “Commander, you are welcome to stay—” 

“I will escort the ladies out, make sure they are not attacked again.” He said coolly. The Vicompte nodded. 

We exited then, the Vicompte announcing he would send Carmen and the other Inquisition agent out once they were located. We made our way to the stables, where we located our horses. No one spoke; Shizelle mounted alongside Derek. She would have come with me but my dress took up too much room. We made our way back up the road to the inn; I wilted in the saddle, feeling weak and tired. Cullen rode ahead, back stiff, not looking back. 

It had to be well past midnight by the time we got to the inn. We went in through the back entrance, Hadin opening the door to allow us entrance. He had joined us on our way back, just beyond the Vicompte’s estate. He had melted out of the shadow to join us on the road. 

We piled in through the door. Derek was supporting me, Shizelle bringing up the rear. Cullen had gone directly up to the room. 

We crammed into the tiny place, and I settled on the bed. Shizelle perched on one of the chairs. Hadin remained by the door. Cullen stood sullenly by the window, staring out in the darkness. Derek cast a look at me and settled on the side of the bed beside me, handing me a cup of water. 

“I’ll see if the tavern is open, if they have any food I can scrounge up.” He stood and gestured at Shizelle to follow. She obeyed, and Hadin closed the door, muttering something about keeping watch. 

I was left alone with Cullen. 

I drank my water and stripped my mask and silk swatch off my head, tossing them onto the bed. Cullen was gripping the window sill with white knuckled ferocity. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I’m a mage.” I said, after a moment. “I wasn’t sure how to.” 

“There are a thousand ways you could have told me. And you had the opportunity many, _many_ times.” His voice was low, full of emotion. “This entire mission was a mistake.” 

“Apart from the attack, it went rather well..” I began. Cullen whirled from the window. 

“ _Well_? I was in agony, the entire night! First you disappear with that pretentious fop into the garden, much too long for just a _chat_ , then return only to drag that poor girl off with you, simply having Derek tell me to _distract the Duke_ , who Carmen had sent her man after, anyways.” He paced the room. “Then Derek finds me, telling me you’ve given him the slip and then, _then_ the girl finds Derek and I, still searching for you, and tells us you’re being attacked!” He ran a hand violently through his hair. “And on top of it all, you’re a mage? And you didn’t even decide that was something you should tell me?” He stood before me, breathing heavily, angry. “So yes, I’m upset. More than you can imagine.” 

“I know I should have told you I have magic—” 

“It’s not just that! This is the second big thing you’ve lied about.” Cullen exploded. “It’s…I want to trust you, but you keep holding out on me! I was _terrified_ when Derek had lost you, and then even more so when I saw you, in that room, covered in your own blood. Then you nonchalantly just _heal_ yourself?” He shook his head. “I honestly don’t even know _what_ to feel right now.” He turned away from me. 

“I was going to tell you—” 

“When?” His back was tense, shoulders high, defensive. “Because it seems like the only reason you told me was because Shizelle revealed your secret.” 

“I—” I stood to go to him. 

“I was ready to throw away everything for you!” He turned again arms wide. “I stood against the Inquisitor to come with you because I cared so much for you!” 

I recoiled. “Why are you saying it like you _don’t_ care for me anymore?” My voice was small. 

He dropped his arms. 

“If I can’t trust you, I don’t know what hope there is.” 

I sat down hard on the bed, my mouth popping open. He ran his hand through his hair again, shaking his head. He let out a hard breath, his curly hair wilder than usual. He seemed at a loss. 

“I’m going to go outside and…I don’t know.” 

“Cullen…” my voice was small, and I realized I was holding back tears. My words came out as a choked moan. He hesitated, then grit his teeth and left. 

I watched the door close and began to sob.


	20. Coming Home

I had never felt like this before. 

I had slid off the bed and everything in me was screaming. My head was cradled in my arms and I pressed, small, against the bed, willing myself to disappear. The folds of my dress—so stupid, now—floated around me like a cloud, the fabric crisp against my skin. I could hear, distantly, voices drifting up from the floors below. Something delicious was cooking as well. I was strangely aware, and yet so detached, from everything around me. 

Somewhere in my mind a part of me was cool, telling me that this moment couldn’t last forever. People recovered from heartbreak, right? 

A louder, more frantic part was telling me that I would not get past this. _Hoped_ that I might die in the next few heartbeats. 

Perhaps because it was only the most recent tragedy, but it seemed worse than both my mother and father’s deaths. Again, the calm part in my brain, the detached one, was chiding me, telling me I was being foolish. Eventually, I drowned that part out with my heavy sobbing. 

I cried for what seemed like hours, but it couldn’t have been very long until the door opened again. 

My head snapped up. 

“Cullen?” My voice was dangerously hopeful, my eyes wide, afraid I might miss his appearance. But it was Shizelle and Derek, sporting some food, smiling and chatting in verma. They stopped dead when they saw me. Derek put the food on the table beside the door and came to my side, tentative. Shizelle seemed lost, but came to me anyways, sinking down to the floor opposite Derek. Her arms went around my shoulders and I sunk into her, needing to be held. I couldn’t see the look of misery on Derek’s face; here was something he could not protect me from. And it was killing him as it was hurting me so much. 

After a moment of Shizelle murmuring and soothing me, I lifted my head. 

“Cullen—” it came out broken, fractured as I felt, “d-d-doesn’t trust me.” 

“I’m so sorry, Reina.” Shizelle’s voice was small. “Derek told me my error. I didn’t know he hated mages.” 

“He d-d-doesn’t. He just hates me.” 

Shizelle glanced to Derek, who stood, his face angry. 

“I’ll be back in a moment.” He said, voice dark. I jerked away from Shizelle, as if shocked. 

“No! Derek…don’t.” I shook my head vigorously. “Please. He…I shouldn’t have lied to him.” It _was_ my fault, after all. I should have trusted him with my secret. But at the same time, who was to say he wouldn’t have still felt the same way, regardless how early I had told him? The cool part of my brain, upset I’d ignored her, came back with a dry comment. _You were doomed from the start. He could never truly love you._

Derek looked at me and I didn’t need a mirror to know how terrible I looked; my eyes felt puffy, my hair had come out of its wrap. The makeup—used for special occasions only—was smeared across my face and the arms of my dress. My dress also had tears across the arms, matching the blood stains from earlier. 

“Let’s get you out of those clothes.” Shizelle said softly, voice light, wrapping her arms around my torso, lifting me. I complied, aching inside. 

Derek stepped outside—“to give you two a moment”—while Shizelle slowly stripped me down. She checked the wound on my arm, using a cloth with some water, which she and Derek had brought from the kitchens, to clean the dried blood around the now-healed cut. I was like a doll; moving how she wanted, holding the position she left me in, unspeaking. She brushed out my hair and cleaned off my face and settled me into bed. I had no idea what time it was anymore, nor did I care. I was past feeling broken; now I felt hollow. I knew it could not last. 

Shizelle settled me into bed and then slipped into the hall for a moment. I heard her and Derek conversing just outside but could not care to listen. 

It must have been due to the crying, but it did not take me more than a few seconds to drift off to sleep. 

*** 

I awoke with the dawn. Shizelle was sleeping beside me on the bed. Derek was sitting on a chair by the door, fast asleep, head lolled back, snoring softly. 

My head hurt. I reached for water on the side table, drinking deep, replacing all that I had wept last night. 

_Last night…_

A fresh wave of grief washed over me and, placing my cup on the table again, I held my head in my hands. I could not cry, however. I just sat there, breathing raggedly. 

After a moment, Derek stirred, sitting up. 

“Reina.” He breathed, wiping his face before rolling his shoulders. He couldn’t have been comfortable. 

“Where did…Carmen and the others go?” I did not want to say _his_ name. I heard Shizelle stirring, waking from behind me. 

“They returned to Skyhold last night. Carmen wanted to get the letters back to Leliana immediately.” I was sure it had not only been the spy’s idea. 

“I see.” I pushed off the bed. “You should have woken me and slept in the bed. You must feel horrid.” 

Derek laughed. “I’ve had worse.” He stood, stretching and yawning, working out the inevitable kinks in his neck and back. 

“What will we do, then?” Shizelle spoke as she too rolled out of bed. I turned to her, then Derek. We were silent; he seemed to be waiting for me to tell him what I wanted. He would be waiting a long time; I had no idea. 

“We should return.” Derek said, finally, realizing I lacked the energy or emotion to decide. “The attackers may be near, and Skyhold is still safest. We can, as Leliana suggested, return quietly and secretly, so as not to draw attention.” 

“I don’t know if I can stay.” It was an admission I had to make before it was too late. Derek turned to me. 

“I understand. We can see if we can’t move on. Perhaps north into the ‘Marches, or further south…” he shrugged. “Leliana or Josephine may have suggestions, contacts even.” 

“Are you still planning on sending me to the Chantry?” Shizelle asked. I turned to her, shaking my head tiredly. 

“Probably not. I…it’s good to have you here, Shizelle.” I gave her a weak smile. She reached to me and grasped my hand, giving it a tight squeeze before dropping it. 

“Well, we can’t stay here. We can figure out further plans as we travel. It’s still three days back.” We packed up our things and then headed out to the stables. Derek acquired a horse from the innkeeper for Shizelle in exchange for my partially ruined but still salvageable dress, and we made for the road. She wore my extra dress though it was tighter on her, and a bit too long. Still, it was better than the gossamer dress she had been wearing. She’d informed us that she’d come to d’Hessi with nothing, and would be leaving with nothing as well, besides the pink garment. Which we ended up trading down the road for a thick cloak for her. 

Shizelle told us of home and her travels over the past thirteen years since we had parted—glosing over the more gruesome, horrible details—and we told her more details of our journey to that point. She knew quite a few of the same Orlesian nobles we did, having lived with d’Hessi for as long as she had, though she had not gained the same recognition as my mother had. 

With less people, our journey went much quicker and we were riding up to Skyhold by mid-morning on the third day. 

My heart dropped into my stomach as we rode up to the gates. Shizelle was blown away by the keep. 

“Solmera be blessed!” She breathed, her head tilted up as we rode to the gate. “This place is _incredible._ ” 

I remembered thinking the same thing when I’d first seen the keep, but now I could only remember spending time there in close proximity to Cullen. On our journey back, Derek had talked me out of running away completely; he could help me avoid Cullen, but, he reminded me, I’d been happy here. I had friends here. And I could be safe here. 

We made our way through the gate, hoods drawn. Hopefully we could draw as little attention as possible. I intended to go to Leliana and give her further details on what had happened with our mission to d’Hessi’s party. I imagined she had most of the tale from the others, but it was bad form not to debrief with your superiors. 

Derek and Shizelle went to the stables to settle the horses. I would broach the subject of Shizelle joining the Inquisition with Leliana when I spoke to her. We’d decided it was a good enough idea; she could help me with my own duties. Two Cort’esa were always better than one. Besides, I could train her, a suggestion she had jumped on, lamenting the fact that the Cort’esa art had so steeply declined. 

I went the back way into the tower, avoiding the more populated main hall. This took me right past my rooms, and I sighed in happiness at the thought of sleeping in my own bed again. I rushed past, wanting to get my meeting over with as quickly as possible. 

“Ah, Cort’esa, you have returned.” Solas’s voice greeted me as I entered the tower. He was pouring over his painting again, using bright blues. He had paused, greeting me with a slight nod. “You were missed.” 

“Thank you, Solas. It is…good to be back.” My hesitation must have shown, for he tilted his head. 

“And somehow I suspect that is not entirely true.” It was not a question, nor did I feel he wanted to know. I shook my head. 

“I am simply tired. I just wanted to check in with Leliana before going back to my room.” 

His only response was to nod and return to his work, disengaging as quickly as he had engaged. I continued upward. As was the expectation, the library was mostly empty. Dorian was nowhere to be seen, and I was glad for it. I adored him but could not bear the thought of plastering on a fake smile. I continued upward to the openness of the upstairs. Leliana was at her desk. She had some familiar pages in her grasp. 

“Leliana.” I approached. She was so absorbed she did not lift her head until I spoke, standing in front of her work station. 

“You did it.” She said, a smile gracing her lips. “The Inquisition is indebted to you; these pages bear the signatures of a few nobles suspected of treason. I am going to make copies and have my best codebreakers look at it—” This reminded me as well of Shizelle’s other use. 

“About that. I have brought someone back with me who may help us.” I told Leliana about Shizelle, and her ability with codes such as the one contained in the letters. I also filled her in on all details from the mission and Shizelle’s help in the obtaining of the coded letters. Leliana was impressed. 

“You Cort’esa are formidable.” She said, casting her eyes back to the pages. “You will send her to me, to help with the code?” 

“Yes, of course. I was hoping you may be able to extend the same offer of employment to her, as you did to me. She will be less of a burden than I, as wanted as I am by Chiral and his agents.” 

“I would suggest speaking to the Inquisitor.” Leliana said. “As usual…” 

“The Inquisitor should have final say.” I nodded. “Of course.” 

“I’d explain how useful Shizelle was with the procurement of the documents, and how she will be helpful with the code-breaking as well. We will put her in the room next to yours. Cullen alerted us she may be coming, so the room is already being prepared.” 

“Ah.” His name, said so flippantly, sent me reeling. My breath stuttered but I forced myself to recover. “If there is nothing further, I will go speak to the Herald now.” 

“Check Josephine’s bureau.” Leliana suggested and went back to the coded letters. 

I made my way back downstairs, out of the library. I could no longer avoid the main hall; I crossed it, hood back up to avoid recognition, as much as possible. The hall was not yet quite bustling, despite it being mid-morning, which I was grateful for. I entered Josephine’s office and sure enough, she was speaking with the Inquisitor. I was acknowledged as I entered, but the two carried on their conversation to its completion. Then the Inquisitor turned to me. 

“You have returned.” This was said with a slight smile. 

I nodded. “Yes, and I have not returned alone. I ran into another of my kind at d’Hessi’s party. She was almost killed in my stead.” 

“Yes, Cullen mentioned, when he returned.” 

“Ah…yes.” I cleared my throat. “She is familiar with codes and was invaluable in helping find the pages. Plus, if ever I leave, to draw the attention of Chiral or simply to move on, she may remain here and carry on in my position.” 

“Is she as good as you? I’ve heard you do wonders for our agents.” The Inquisitor said, smile growing. I inclined my head. 

“Thank you, ser. I can ensure she has received proper training. I have confidence in her and, well, the Inquisition has been so welcoming to my kin, thus far. I think it would be a great fit.” 

“I agree. She may stay. I am sorry to hear of the attack that happened, but I am glad no one was seriously hurt. I hear you even revealed _another_ skill?” The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow. I bit my lip. 

“Yes, ser. I am deeply sorry that I did not tell the Inquisition sooner of my abilities, but I did not want to cause a disturbance, being what you consider an apostate.” 

“Solas is an apostate. We have no issue with him.” 

“His magic is…understood by those here. For the most part. Vermahnese magic is different.” 

“And people fear the unknown.” Josephine chimed in. “It is understandable.” 

“I’m less worried about the revelation and its effect on the rest of the Inquisition. Just one person in particular.” The Inquisitor said in passing. My breath caught and I did not respond. Was I being tested? 

“If that is all, Inquisitor, might I return to my rooms and rest?” 

I was rewarded with a nod. I bowed. 

“Cort’esa, before you go, I hope you are still planning on being here for the gala we are holding in a few weeks?” 

I turned to Josephine. “Of course. I had not forgotten. I look forward to performing.” 

“Wonderful.” 

I left, finding Derek and Shizelle in the main hall, conversing with Varric. I approached. 

“Ah, Pearl.” The dwarf greeted me as I neared. “Derek is introducing me to your protégé.” 

This caused me to laugh. “She’s not really my protégé.” I said, casting a look at Shizelle. She frowned. 

“Why not? You probably know more than me, having the benefit of actually finishing your training with _the_ best Cort’esa that Vermahna has seen in at least a half-century.” 

“That doesn’t mean _I’m_ any good!” 

“Oh, come now, Pearl. You’re being modest. Since you’ve arrived, you’ve amazed everyone.” Varric said, grinning. I blushed. 

“You are too kind, Varric. But honestly, if you’d known my mother…” I trailed off. 

Varric shook his head. “I know _you_ and you are impressive.” 

I yawned then, which got Shizelle and Derek yawning as well. Varric snickered. 

“Alright, alright, I get the picture. We’ll speak later.” 

I led out to the back doors, to the rooms. Darlah was coming out of Shizelle’s room as we approached. She curtsied as she saw us, and I smiled back. 

“Darlah, how wonderful to see you. This is Shizelle,” I gestured my friend forward, “and she will be occupying that room.” 

“Pleasure to meet you, Cort’esa?” She glanced between us, the question in her eyes. 

Shizelle giggled. “Yes, I am also a Cort’esa.” 

“I…I expected you to have purple hair, too, m’lady.” Darlah admitted. 

Shizelle giggled again. “No, mine is plain old yellow. Yours is beautiful, though.” She gestured to Darlah’s hair, which was a mousy brown. “So unique.” 

Darlah blushed and fingered the strands by her ear. “T-thank you, Cort’esa. If you need anything, please, let me know.” 

She bowed to us all and left then. Shizelle watched her go. 

“She is very cute.” She said, the made her way to her room. I followed her in, and Derek went to the soldier barracks. He told me he’d make sure a guard was set near my rooms, perhaps not quite so conspicuous as before we’d left. I sent him on a quick task, first. He’d report back to me that evening, if things went well. 

Shizelle’s room was slightly smaller than mine but had most of the same furnishings; table with chairs, dresser, wardrobe. She turned to me, throwing her arms wide. 

“I feel like a princess!” She giggled. Oh yes, she was going to be successful here; I could already tell we were going to draw different customers; she had a youthfulness that I could not pull off without appearing childish. “I will need to get clothes though.” 

“We can take care of that pretty quick. We will just need to let the Requisition officers know. I’ve got some extra things for you to use, for now.” 

Shizelle threw her arms around me then, and I was surprised, but embraced her back. 

“Thank you, Reina.” She sighed, losing the slightly girlish tone she had taken upon arrival in Skyhold. “I…am so lucky I ran into you.” She pulled away. “I’m sorry you were hurt because of me.” 

“Well, the attacker was technically after me, so—” 

“No, I mean…the other hurt.” She stared me hard into the eyes, frowning at her own part in the fallout. “I know it hurts. Before I ran away from my Tevinter master, I fell in love with one of his servants. He was one of the few who was kind to me, an elf. His name was Levien.” 

“What happened?” I asked, already knowing it had to involve what I was feeling, at least somewhat. 

“Our master found out. He…did not approve. I was supposed to be _his_ and no one else’s. He punished Leiven, beating him, and then sent him away.” She frowned. “I ran away not too long after; Levien and I had been planning to run away together but I never found him again.” Her shoulders slumped. I grasped her wrists, still on my shoulders, and gave them a brief squeeze. 

“Thank you, Shizelle. I never liked anyone before. It’s _hard_.” 

She nodded solemnly at my words. “First loves are.” 

“I should probably show you around.” I said, throwing levity into my voice, forcing a smile. “If you’d like, we can change out of these clothes and into something nicer, then I can give you a tour? Show you off to the potential patrons?” This cheered her and she nodded vigorously. 

“That sounds wonderful! Derek was already telling me about some of the characters here. Varric seems nice.” 

“He will likely ask you to play cards at some point.” I warned. “Before you agree, talk to me. Depending on the players, you will walk away a poor woman. Or an embarrassed one.” 

“Noted.” She laughed. We entered my room and I found her a dress to wear; a pale grey dress with pink and yellow flower embroidery. It was beautiful on her with her yellow hair and flushed cheeks. She had blue eyes, and looked like a spring sprite, sprung from the woods. I chose a simple dark blue gown. 

“Where shall we begin?” I asked. “Did you meet Bla—Thom at the stables?” 

“Yes. Derek filled me in briefly on the man’s history here. Scandalous.” She raised her eyebrows. “However, he seems very kind.” I nodded. 

“He is very kind.” 

“Derek also said something about a tavern and a library.” 

“Not many people hang out in the library.” 

“Just you, right?” She raised an eyebrow. “If I remember correctly, when you _weren’t_ causing the premature greying of the hair of our teachers, you were usually reading. Anything but what you were _supposed_ to be studying, generally.” 

“Good memory!” I laughed genuinely, ushering her out onto the ramparts. We passed the stables and across the yard. It was just coming up to afternoon. “We could get you a quick meal and then go to the tavern?” 

“Sounds like an excellent plan. I’m famished.” 

“Understandable. The food here is a bit heartier than in Orlais, but not as rich.” 

“That’s a welcome change.” She patted her stomach. “I was starting to lose my figure.” 

“You look wonderful.” I chided. Shizelle and I were different not only in colouring, but also in stature. I was short but lithe, willowy. She was about an inch shorter and a bit plumper, but she had always had a fuller figure. The baby-fat that I had remembered her with had turned her into a more curvaceous woman. 

“Thanks.” 

We went down to the lower level of the keep, to the mess hall. 

“Cort’esa!” Mirren stood from a table near the door. “You are back! We were worried you’d finally moved on to greater things.” 

“I could never leave without saying goodbye, Mirren.” I smiled. 

“Well, we are glad you are back. And you brought a friend.” Mirren cleared a space on the bench for us to sit. Eyes were already fixed on Shizelle, who beamed around. 

“I’m Cort’esa Shizelle.” She practically sang. 

Questions began and I sat in silence, happy that she was already getting the attention she needed. I stood, getting us some food before returning to the table. I was able to eat quickly for once, due to the fact that I was not being asked many questions. Shizelle managed to get a few mouthfuls in between questions. She managed it quite sneakily, asking those who were talking to elaborate on themselves, tell her details and deeper stories as they were introduced. It allowed me to see how she worked with patrons, which was, so far, adequate. 

Once she was finished, I grasped her elbow. She smiled at me and stood, taking my cue. 

“Leaving already?” Mirren asked. 

“I’m going to get Shizelle accustomed to the keep, take her on a tour before she settles into her rooms, right by mine.” I added. 

“Thank you for such a warm welcome.” Shizelle gushed. “I already feel at home.” 

We left then and conversation behind us resumed. She was practically glowing. 

“Goddess, everyone is so nice here!” She gave a little skip. “And authentic! It’s so much nicer than Orlais.” 

“I’m glad you like it.” I said with a smile. “I hope you will be at home here.” 

We started with a tour of the grounds; I pointed out the tavern, telling her we would end there, as it would probably be the most time consuming, and generally saw the most patrons. We entered the keep and I swung by Josephine’s rooms, to see if the Ambassador wouldn’t like to meet the newest addition to our forces. As we were coming up to her office, however, the door opened and I walked into Cullen.


	21. Alone Again

“Reina!” His hand shot out, instinctively, to steady me. We both recoiled at the same time. Our awkward encounter went ignored as the others emerged from behind Cullen and spotted our most recent arrival. 

“Ah, you must be the new Cort’esa.” The Inquisitor, who’d exited Josephine’s rooms behind Cullen, along with Cassandra and Leliana, smiled at the younger girl. “Welcome.” 

Shizelle’s eyes were saucers and she dropped into a deep bow. 

“Inquisitor! It is truly an honour to meet you. Hearing of all that you’ve done for Thedas…” She stood, casting her eyes upon the impressive figure. “Thank you for accepting my services. I will do my best to make the Inquisition proud.” 

“You already have, it seems.” Cassandra said. “We have heard all about the success of the mission to d’Hessi’s party.” 

“We were just going to send for you, to help with the decoding.” Leliana said to Shizelle. “It is, as you pointed out, a numerical code. Cort’esa Reina said you have experience with these?” 

“It’s very similar to one that my Tevinter _master_ used.” Shizelle’s face darkened for only a moment. “It seemed only right to pass on my experience.” 

“You worked in Tevinter?” Leliana asked. Shizelle shook her head. 

“Sort of; it is a long story. Like Reina, I was training to be a Cort’esa when the rebellion occurred. The training changed, as well as how the Cort’esa were treated.” She bowed her head. “It was a terrible time. I was, unfortunately, sold to pirates when I was but a child. After a few years with them, I was sold to a Tevinter master. He was only marginally kinder than the pirates.” I was surprised she was going into such detail. “I eventually escaped and used my skills to get back to Orlais. But when I was in Tevinter, I honed my spycraft at my master’s request. That included my code-breaking. I’m just glad it can be put to better use here.” 

“Well, we would definitely appreciate the help.” Cullen spoke for the first time. He was pointedly not looking at me. I did not know where to look, as I wanted to _see_ him. I wanted to be alone with him to apologize, while simultaneously being miles away. 

“I am available whenever I am needed.” 

“Why don’t you come with me now?” Leliana suggested. “I’d like to figure out precisely when Prisane was planning, sooner rather than later, so that we may counteract his moves. It will not take long for him to realize the papers are gone, if he has not already.” 

“Ah…it may take longer than you think.” Shizelle glance at me. I raised an eyebrow. She barreled on ahead, and I was surprised by her admission. “Like Reina, I have some magic. Mine is more so illusionary than Reina’s healing powers. I created a temporary illusion that the papers were still in place.” 

“You can maintain that, over such great a distance?” The Inquisitor sounded impressed. 

“Yes. At least, I-I think I can. It was another thing my Tevinter master used me for.” Shizelle sighed. “He had many enemies, many people he wanted to trick. My magic, being what it is, is different than even Tevinter magic.” 

“So spycraft is not new to you.” Leliana sounded intrigued. “Even less so than we thought.” 

“I’m sorry, I do not mean to create distrust—” 

“No, no! You only just arrived. I imagine even Reina did not know the full details of your history.” I shook my head in confirmation. “It is beneficial for us, however. If we ever need another Cort’esa for a job like the one you just did, we have two possible choices.” 

“I’d be delighted to help in whatever way I can.” Shizelle smiled. She followed Leliana from the room and I turned to follow. The others dispersed. As I passed through the door to the base of the tower, I turned. Cullen had not moved from his spot and was watching me. I jerked my head away, closing the door behind me. I caught up to Leliana and Shizelle. Shizelle reached for my hand as I arrived beside her and squeezed. 

“It’ll get easier, after the first time.” She said, her whisper only meant for me. I offered a quavery smile, surprised she had noticed the awkwardness between me and the Commander. 

Once in the library, we continued upward to Leliana’s room. Or, rather, Leliana and Shizelle continued. I was drawn aside by Dorian. 

“Reina!” he smiled. “How was your little excursion?” 

I laughed. “Successful.” 

“Yes, I see you have a tag along.” He glanced to the rapidly disappearing heels of Leliana and Shizelle. “You will have competition for business.” He teased and I laughed. “Or, wait, I guess that’s good. Since you have chosen to pursue a different path. How _is_ the Commander?” 

I averted my eyes, which stung briefly. Dorian’s eyebrows knit together. 

“Oh goodness, I’ve really said something bad.” He placed a hand on my shoulder. “I take it things did not work out?” 

“To put it mildly.” I mumbled, wiping my eyes. Dorian led me to a chair by the window and I sat. He perched on the table in front of me. “Shizelle let slip that I’m a mage. And Cullen was…less than enthused that I kept that detail from him.” 

Dorian made a _tsk_ ing noise with his mouth. “Oh dear. Sometimes the templar in him is too overpowering. Although, the chivalrous-knight is part of the draw, I suppose.” I gave a weak smile. Dorian shook his head. “I’m sorry to hear about it, though. Truly.” He pulled me from my seat into a hug and I curved to him, locking my hands tight behind his back. He smelled slightly musky, but also had a slight sweetness. I pulled away after the embrace. 

“Thanks, Dorian. It’s probably for the best, though.” He didn’t seem to believe this, if his skeptical expression was to be believed. 

“You’re a mage though!” He said, changing subjects. “I should have known. Derek told me he was, but I guess he respects you too much to share your juicy secrets with me. He’s back too, I take it?” he couldn’t hide the excitement in his voice. 

“Yes, Derek is back. I think he missed you, too.” 

“Of course he did! It’s a wonder he survived without me.” I shook my head, rolling my eyes. 

“Well, he likes you so don’t take that lightly.” I wasn’t sure why I was telling him this. He also seemed perplexed, if only for a moment. 

“He said he’s happy how things are.” 

“Oh, he probably is. I’m not doubting that. Just…thanks for being there for him. Especially after what happened when I was attacked. I know you’ve been a great help to him.” 

I left Dorian then, continuing upstairs to where Leliana and Shizelle were cracking the code. They seemed to be doing alright, and I was of no use to them, so I trekked back down the stairs to the library, grabbing a book and settling into a chair. Dorian had already disappeared, in search of Derek, I imagined. The only other one in the library at that time was Helisma, the Tranquil mage who oversaw the creature research in the library. She nodded to me—we’d chatted a few times about her research—and I returned the gesture. I found a book which was a collection of legends about witches and settled into my regular chair to read while I waited for Shizelle. I did not want to leave her until I’d shown her around. 

I read for an hour or so; the mid-afternoon sun faded into late afternoon, slanting through the windows and casting different shadows on the walls. I had to move once to get better light. Eventually Shizelle came down, smiling brightly. 

“Sorry, you weren’t waiting the whole time, were you?” She asked upon reaching me. I stood, returning my book to its spot on the shelf. 

“I made good use of my time.” I said. “I was reading some fascinating stories about a woman named Flemeth. How did the code-breaking go?” 

“Wonderful! We’re pretty sure we got it sorted out. It took a while, but it was _very_ complex. Leliana said my experience with the Tevinter code was very helpful.” She beamed. “Now, shall we continue our tour?” 

“Let’s.” I was glad of something to distract me. 

We left the tower, heading back down to the keep. I considered stopping to see Vivienne but decided not to. I showed Shizelle instead around the grounds; the garden, where I formally introduced her to Cassandra and then to the ramparts, where we looked out across the great mountains. 

“How long have you been here?” Shizelle finally asked me. I reflected back. 

“Almost three months, I guess.” 

“Really? So short a time…it seems as if you already are well-respected and have a good place here.” Her comment was confirmed as a pair of soldiers walked by and greeted me on their way to their positions on the wall. I greeted them back by name, and they continued on their way. 

“Well, shall we go to the tavern? There will likely be a great deal more people there. Many more for you to meet.” 

“I’m already worried I’ll forget everyone’s names!” She laughed, but we went anyways. 

We started toward Cabot for drinks upon entering but were flagged down almost immediately. 

“Reina! Who’s your friend?” I turned to see the familiar face of Iron Bull from across the room. I pulled Shizelle along with me and headed in his direction. 

“This is Cort’esa Shizelle.” I said, introducing her. “This is the Iron Bull.” 

Shizelle gave him an appreciative look, hesitating on his horns. “You…wow.” Was what she managed. “I’ve heard of the qunari but you’re the first one I’ve ever seen.” 

“Impressive, huh?” He grinned, shifting slightly in his seat, glowing under the positive scrutiny. 

“Impressive _and_ intimidating.” Shizelle admitted. 

“Oh, he’s really just big softie.” I said, moving to sit at an open chair. Iron Bull reached to me, pulling me onto his lap. 

“Hm, that’s not what the bite marks said…” he growled against my neck, nipping me. I laughed. 

“I take it you’ve been lonely?” I laughed, pushing him off, half-heartedly. “Of course not. Mostly I hung out with Dorian. He’s far surpassing your score, if you’re still keeping track.” He said with a laugh. “But maybe I was hoping to help provide you with distraction.” He said this last part quieter, letting the laughter rewarded to his previous comment drown out his words to all but me. I gave up my struggle to get off his lap and stared him in the eye. 

“News travels fast.” I said. “Who told you?” 

“Derek. I think he knows we’re close.” 

“I see.” I glanced across the bar to where Derek was sitting with a couple of the senior officers, oblivious to our conversation. I could not bring myself to be mad at him. 

“Perhaps we can invite Shizelle?” He asked. I threw my head back, laughing. 

“Goddess, you _are_ keen.” I finally extracted myself from his lap and he smacked my butt. I shook my head at him. 

“Just trying to help a friend.” He said with a devilish grin. “Just remember, I’m being selfless.” 

“Oh, of course.” I nodded, returning to Shizelle’s side. She was chatting with Krem, who grinned at me. 

“Reina! Always good to have you around.” He said, tipping his cup towards me. I nodded and turned to Shizelle. 

“Would you like a drink?” She nodded enthusiastically. She seemed to be doing well with socializing, so I left her alone to get the drinks. Cabot grabbed a couple tankards and I took them back to the small cluster by the stairs. That was when Sera bounded down them. 

“Heard you went on a little trip. Glad you’re back.” She jerked her thumb at Shizelle. “She another one of you?” 

“In all ways, yes.” I said. “She’s both Vermahnese and a fancy prossy.” I laughed. “Shall I introduce you?” 

“Maybe later.” She shrugged. “I was planning a prank on mister-serious-face.” 

“Ah, Solas?” 

“Yea, him. Think I could recruit Varric?” 

“Oh, no doubt. Depending on what it is, I’d offer to help, but I cherish Solas’s friendship too much.” 

“Ick.” Sera bounded past to do whatever it was she had planned. She was carrying a jar of beetles. I didn’t read too much into it; knowing Sera, that was for reasons unrelated. 

I took the drinks back to Shizelle and settled in, chatting with the others, catching up on the events of the past week, while we’d been away. It looked like not much had happened, save the official announcement of the gala that we were holding in three weeks. 

“And word is we get to watch you perform.” Krem said to me. “People—and by people, I mean Bull—have been wondering if you’ll slowly be removing clothes during this dance.” 

“No, not wondering, hoping.” Bull corrected. 

“Sorry to disappoint,” I shook my head, “I will be clothed. Mostly.” 

“What are you doing?” Shizelle asked, eyes aglow. 

“The _Zivacan_.” I said. Shizelle squealed. 

“Ooh! I haven’t seen the _Zivacan_ in forever! I never got to learn. Cort’esa Laranine…she died in the uprising.” We paused a moment, registering the loss. “But I’m excited to see you do it!” She turned to everyone else. “It’s _breathtaking_. And Reina is an incredible dancer.” 

“Please keep in mind she hasn’t seen me dance in well over a decade.” I said, shaking my head. Those around us laughed. 

Conversation continued, and eventually I yawned, and decided it would be best to go to bed. I touched Shizelle on the elbow. She was doing well, and hadn’t drank too much, so she was still coherent. She turned to me, cheeks a bit rosier because of the drink. 

“I’m going to go to bed. If you need anything, just come get me. Derek is still here; he can escort you back to your room if you need. You should already have offers, though.” I said, casting an eye around. She nodded. 

“I feel safe here.” She said, eyes glittering. “Will _you_ be alright though?” She sounded genuinely concerned. I nodded. 

“Yes. I just need to sleep. It’s been a long journey. I’m looking forward to being back in my own bed.” 

I leaned in and kissed her on her cheeks, and she responded in turn. Then I left, stopping by Derek’s table momentarily to tell him I was going to bed, in case he was worried about me. He stood, insisting on walking me back to my room. 

“Honestly, Derek, I’ll be fine. Between the attack at d’Hessi’s and the attack here, I’m sure we won’t see any action for a while, if ever.” 

“I don’t care; I will not forgive myself if another thing happens. I’m not about to let my guard down again.” He finished his drink, leaving his empty cup on the table. “Besides, I need a quick breather. It’s hot in here.” 

“Liar.” I said with a wry smile. But I stopped fighting him and we left the Herald’s Rest. We did not speak as we crossed the yard. I must have reacted as we passed by Cullen’s rooms, for Derek reached to me and grasped my hand. 

“Hey. I’m still not opposed to harming the Commander, if you’d like. Nothing permanent, of course.” He shrugged. I clasped his hand back, squeezing it. 

“He’s…not worth it.” I sighed, shutting my eyes for a moment. 

In no time, we were standing at my door. I bid Derek farewell and he returned to the tavern. 

I was left alone for the first time in a few days. 

I immediately regretted it.


	22. Harsh Encounters

I stared into the darkness of my room, and loneliness swept over me. 

My shoulders slumped, and I leaned back against the door, closing my eyes as I rested my head against the door. 

_It’ll get easier, after the first time_. Shizelle’s words came back to me and I squeezed my eyes tightly, willing them to be true. 

I’d seen Cullen the first time in three days and he hadn’t even spoken to me, beyond the shocked gasp of my name. I treasured the sound on his lips. And the look he’d given me as I’d walked away…he’d been too far to read it, but I was quite sure it was regret. 

Did he…regret his time with me? Was it too much to hope he regretted letting her go? 

I pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes, trying to clear Cullen’s face, the memory of him from my mind. 

I hoped someone might come see me tonight, to distract me. Someone who could clear my head of the Commander. 

As if an answer to a prayer, a knock sounded at the door. I whirled, eyes springing open. I waited a moment, then pulled open the door, and came face to face with Iron Bull. He held up two bottles of booze. 

“Can I come in?” 

I grabbed one of the bottles and turned away from the door, leaving it open, as an invitation. He entered, closing it behind him. I yanked the protruding cork from the bottle with my teeth. The liquor was clear and burned when it went down but felt warm in my chest. 

“Well shit.” Iron Bull cleared his throat from behind me. “If you set that pace, you’re going to be out cold in an hour.” 

I turned on him, taking another swig. “Then I guess we tumble now.” I said, rather fiercely. Iron Bull raised an eyebrow. 

“For someone who broke things off, you’re oddly bitter.” 

My head jerked back. “Is that the rumour?” I shook my head. “ _I_ didn’t break things off, _he_ did. Because he found out I’m a mage.” 

“Oh, yeah. Heard that too. Weird to think of you as someone with magic.” 

“Sure.” I drank. Iron Bull mimicked me. 

“That can’t be all to the story.” Iron Bull said after a moment. I glanced to him, settling on to my bed. The booze was hitting me fast, so I let the bottle hang from my hands. 

“It’s…not. I was attacked at d’Hessi’s party. He thought I was Shizelle, who he thought was me.” 

“That’s…sure, go on.” He pulled a chair over, to sit in front of me. 

“Man came at me with a knife. Got me in the arm. Shizelle was gone, off to get help. When they all came back, I was covered in blood, dazed…and Shizelle said I could just heal myself, when Cullen told me I needed stitches.” 

“Ah…Shizelle didn’t know the Commander doesn’t like magic.” 

“Nope.” I took a small sip of drink. “Then he went on this huge…tirade about how he can’t trust me.” I threw a hand up. “I’m not cut out for relationships. It’s probably better this way. At least _you’re_ happy. And probably others in Skyhold. Though now that Shizelle is here, there is some choice…” 

This earned me a laugh. “Oh, Cort’esa. You were practically vibrating with happiness when you left Skyhold last week. Because of him. You _can_ do relationships. You just have to learn. Though I can confirm that there were a lot of bitter patrons, as you call them, when it was clear you’d chosen the Commander as your one and only.” 

“Bit too late to learn now.” 

“Never.” Iron Bull said, taking a few swallows of his drink. “Now, before I tell you to do what it takes to go after him—” 

“A foolish idea, really.” I chided. 

“—I’m going to fuck you.” 

“Oh good. This evening won’t be a _total_ waste then.” I took another deep swallow of my drink before standing and taking Iron Bull’s bottle, placing them both on the table. I returned, settling onto his lap as I had back in the tavern. 

I turned my mouth up to his and he slipped a broad hand around the back of my neck, holding fast to my nape as he kissed me with force. I twisted toward him, wrapping my own arms around his thick shoulders. The kiss heated quickly, and Iron Bull’s free hand dropped to my backside, where he squeezed, tight, pulling me harder against him. Then he broke off the kiss. 

“In my experience, heartbreak calls for a…delicate touch. I’m not very good at delicate.” 

I snorted. “Yeah, I don’t need delicate right now.” I said, with a growl. “I need hard and fast. Borderline violent. I want bruises that remind me I don’t need him.” 

“I can definitely do that.” 

And he did. 

*** 

I rolled weakly over on the bed, sore all over and happy for it. Iron Bull had disappeared just moments ago, leaving me alone again. 

I lay on my side, blinking against the sudden emotion I felt. Iron Bull, true to his word, had given me some final advice as he’d left. 

_“Go after him. Win his trust back.”_ Then he was gone. 

Was that really the best course of action? Was I not better alone? 

My heart told me no. 

I sighed, closing my eyes. I drew myself back to the distraction that my last guest had just provided. The memory of Iron Bull shifted, his face turning into that of Cullen. My eyes flew open and I sprang up. 

“By the four hells…” I pressed my palms to my eyes, squeezing them shut and hoping to block out the images. I could not; all I could picture was Cullen, doing everything that the Iron Bull had just done and more; kissing me gently, all over. Making me laugh and blush and smile. Cradling me in his arms…telling me he loved me. 

I rolled out of bed, my head slightly spinning. I’d still had a lot to drink. Maybe that was contributing to the uncontrollable images flowing through my mind. I needed to go for a walk to clear my head. I slipped on some clothes, having curled up in bed naked after my late evening visit. I pulled my hood up, over my hair, hoping to be inconspicuous as possible. 

I decided I’d go down to the waterfront. After this evening…I’d need more of my poultices for bruises. I locked up my room behind me, my basket in my arms, dropping the key inside afterward. The night was pretty clear, the stars above bright, the moon full. I took to the front gate, nodding to the guards on duty. They recognized me and allowed me to leave. 

I made my way down to the water, careful of the uneven steps underfoot. My head was still swimming, so I stumbled a couple times, catching myself on the rough stones lining the path, scraping my palms as I did so. By the time I reached the water, my palms were raw and sore. I discarded my basket on a rock and put my hands into the glacial water. 

I sighed; it felt amazing. I shook off my hand and put it on my neck, to some of the appearing bruises there, and then my arms. I could reach a lot of the other bruises, covered as they were by my clothes. But the cool of the glacial water soothed my teased skin. 

I dried off my hands on my cloak and then stood, retrieving my basket. I pulled a small knife from the basket and went about collecting my plants. Once they were in my basket, I sat back on my haunches and stared across the water. Then I froze. 

Was that a _person_ across the frozen water? It was not that hard to see in the bright moonlight, but it was quite a distance away. Was I imagining things? Was it simply a shadow? 

A noise behind me startled me from my staring; the sound of rocks behind me being knocked down the stairs, skittering, rock on rock. 

I turned, standing, my hood falling back from my head. 

There was a tense moment where Cullen just stared at me from near the bottom of the stairs, face unreadable. I stared back, chest rising and falling in short, shallow breaths. I didn’t know what to do or say; I felt like a deer, frozen in the sight of a hunter. 

“I should go.” Cullen said, finally. 

“No, I’ll leave.” I said. My voice was stronger than I’d anticipated. I pushed past him, trying not to touch him. 

“Right, don’t want to keep your _clients_ waiting.” His voice was harsh, bitter. I did not turn to face him, but I spoke, voice shaking with fury and sadness. 

“You do not have a right to judge me.” I swallowed, turning to snap over my shoulder. “You made the choice to no longer be a part of my life.” I turned away, back to the stairs, to return to the keep. 

“ _You_ chose to lie to me.” Cullen threw back at me. I stiffened. 

“I know.” It was a choked whisper, my back still to him. “And if I could…I’d go back and fix it.” I was barely audible. Before Cullen could respond, if he’d even heard me, I tore up the stairs with my basket, pulling my hood over my head again. 

Tears flowed freely down my cheeks again and I kept my face averted as I returned to the gate, the guards nodding to me as I entered. I practically ran across the yard to my room, unlocking the door with shaking hands and slamming it behind me, collapsing to the floor as tears overtook me.


	23. Gala Night

With the confirmation that Cullen despised me, it became a lot easier to throw myself back into my Cort’esa practice. I helped Shizelle fall into the routine of the keep, and we spent a lot of time together. We even started practicing dances together. Or, rather, I began teaching Shizelle dances that she’d been too young to learn when the instructors had been killed off or sold or exiled. I appreciated having her as a sort of student; it gave me the chance to refresh myself on things I hadn’t thought about in a long time. We talked history, geography…Shizelle even tutored me on my maths again. It was a great few weeks. 

If I ignored the near constant pain in my heart. 

Working helped distract, but not to cure. I also threw myself into preparations for the party; Josephine enlisted me and Shizelle to help with planning and decorating. I was glad to be useful. All of my free time, I was in the library. 

Too soon, the party was upon us. 

Shizelle and I spent the days leading up to the party working on final preparations; decorating, organizing, cleaning, making sure things were ready. The kitchens were nearly constantly running in the days leading up to the gala, cooking game and breads and soups and small dishes. The delicious smells wafted through Skyhold, mostly collecting in the main hall of the keep, which became a hub of activity. 

Shizelle had also found the time to make a traditional Cort’esan garment to wear to the party; a sheer black and gold dress with a gold collar, which she had gotten custom made. It was intricately woven metal from which beads and strings of stones draped. The sheer black fabric, with gold beading and embroidery, covered only the most important parts of her body, and then not even entirely. She’d worked hard on her hair, too, and it was half up in a braid that looked like a flower, with small flowers braided in as well. She looked stunning and reminded me so much of home it ached. 

I had left my hair down, adorning it with a small circlet with bells and pearls. I wore a dress of seafoam green. Or, dress was not the correct term; I wore a sheer skirt of varying shades of seafoam green, which was slit up both sides, revealing my long, pale legs. The top covered only my breasts and was woven with small glittering stones and crystals and beads, as was part of the skirt, sending off dazzles of light and musical ringing as I moved. Adding to this were the silver cuffs around my bicep and wrist, set with their own pearls and metal disks. Strings of pearls hung from the top, grazing across my belly, and circled around my waist. The dress itself weighed a great deal more than it looked like it should, considering how little of me it covered. It was as revealing as my small clothes. 

“I’m so excited!” Shizelle breathed, helping me to dress, not that I needed as much help as I had with the Orlesian dress. She had also put on a bit of my makeup, her eyelashes, cheeks and lips darker than usual. She was practically vibrating with excitement; she could hardly keep still. The party was due to start at sundown and the last rays of the sun were stretching over the rocky peaks around Skyhold. The excitement in the air was practically tangible; everyone wanted this. There were rumours that, too soon, the Inquisitor would be leaving with their party to seek out Corypheus, once and for all… 

But those were thoughts for another day. 

I laughed, tying my circlet around my head, weaving it into my hair to keep it secured. “I’m glad. You worked hard to get this night ready.” 

“We _both_ did.” She said. “I just hope you can be happy.” She squeezed my shoulder, and I smiled back. 

“I am.” It was not a total lie, either. Each passing day brought some respite from the heartbreak, even if it still panged painfully now and again. 

I ran over mental checklists as we prepared, wondering if I forgot anything. I was quite confident that I hadn’t, but I supposed we would see. Ready, she left me, going out into the night to join the revelries which were just beginning. I ran through my dance once more in my head while I stretched and then, nodding to myself, pulled a thick cloak over my shoulders. I didn’t want to expose my costume just yet, and my dance was not yet set to start until an hour after sundown. 

I entered the tower, which was mostly quiet, though chatter could be heard in the distance. This would be a good night, I told myself. I had already told Derek that it would be his job to help me avoid the Commander. I hoped he would respect me enough to do the same, though I was not holding my breath. 

The main hall had been filled with long tables, laden with food and drink and candles to illuminate the room. There were candles all over the place, and Shizelle and I had worked hard—using her powers of illusion—to cast small mage-lights all over the room, which floated and danced like little sprites, just above the heads of those in the hall. Musicians were set up on the elevated platform under the great window at the end of the hall; the throne that usually occupied the space had been painstakingly moved to make a small stage. This would be where I would be dancing, when the time came. 

I drew my cape closer around me, glad and proud of how beautiful the hall looked, now that the sun had set. 

“Ruffles, you really outdid yourself.” Varric’s voice drifted toward me. I felt a hand on my elbow as his companion spoke. 

“The only credit I can take is that I enlisted the Cort’esans to help me.” Josephine steered me to the conversation, her hand firm on my elbow. Derek was standing with Varric and Josephine, and a couple others, names both known and unknown, gathered as well. 

“A bit of magic and some candles go a long way.” I said with a coy smile. “In all honesty, it looked even better than I think Shizelle and I could have hoped.” 

“Well, whoever is responsible needs a pat on the back. Or a raise. Or a night off.” Varric winked at me. I smiled back. 

Conversation quickly turned to other matters and I turned to Derek. 

“No sign of…unmentionable characters, yet.” He said softly, bowing his head to my ear, a slight smile playing at his lips. I pulled back, smiling and shaking my head. 

“You can say his name. I won’t die.” 

“Of course. You’re stronger than that. I’m more so saying it for me; if I say his name, I might fly into a rage and do all the things I was planning on doing when he’d first hurt you.” 

“Oh Derek. Don’t worry about me. I’ll…” I trailed off, looking over Derek’s shoulder towards the entrance and seeing some more people enter. One of them was Cullen. 

He was dressed even more handsomely than he had been at d’Hessi’s party; he wore a half-cape, which covered only one of his arms, bound across his chest with a gold chain. His jacket, white, with gold embroidery around the collar, wrists and lapels, had tails and cinched around his trim waist, showing off the broadness of his shoulders compared to the narrowness of his hips. The pants he wore matched the cape; a deep grey. 

My breath caught, and I turned away from the door. Cullen was turned in conversation with Rainier and hadn’t seen me yet. I did not intend for him to have to. 

“This was a mistake.” I said, turning to the tables and grabbing a glass of sparkling wine, downing it in one go. Derek reached for my hand as I went for another glass. 

“Hey, Reina. You can do this. I will keep him away from you.” His voice was low and I could tell he meant it. I nodded, letting out a quavering breath I’d been holding. 

We toured the room, talking with small groups as we came across them. As promised, Derek kept me away from Cullen. It almost seemed like Cullen was _trying_ to get to me, but that made no sense. He’d been adamantly clear he was done with me, last we spoke. 

I realized I’d been in mid-conversation with one of the many Orlesians at the party, who seemed concerned that I looked pale, and I’d completely tuned out of the conversation. I plastered on a smile. 

“Lady Meurot, I’m terribly sorry. I think I’m just a bit nervous for tonight.” This seemed to appease her, and she told me I should get something to eat, to settle my stomach. I agreed and bid her adieu, checking my surroundings as I did so. 

By my estimate, I thought as I ate a couple small mouthfuls of the finger-foods that lined the tables, there were only a few moments to go until I was set to perform. 

Sure enough, as I took a swallow of sparkling wine—being a bit more responsible now, with my drinking—I spotted Josephine, who seemed to be looking for me. She waved me over. 

“I think it is a good time to begin, Cort’esa?” She half-suggested. I nodded, turning to see Shizelle approach the stage as well. 

“I’ll take care of the lights.” She said with a smile, and practically skipped off. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen.” Josephine turned to the crowd, who halted, their conversations dying off as she drew their attention, the lights dimming slightly to assist in the attention-getting. “Cort’esa Reina will now perform a dance from her homeland. I invite you all to watch.” 

Some people settled into chairs, others against walls, others simply remained where they were, eyes in my direction. The lighting moved again; the dimmed mage-lights moved closer to me, illuminating the space around me, stopping me from seeing faces clearly beyond the ring of lights. 

I nodded to the musicians, who had shuffled to the side of the make-shift stage to allow me room to dance. I turned my back on the crowd, small murmured conversations rising up, as the drummer began a slow, steady rhythm. 

I had worked with the musicians for the past week to make sure they knew the music, with Derek’s help. The drummer Josephine had found had been such a quick learner, Derek had decided he was not needed. I didn’t completely disagree; the drummer was great, without a doubt, but having a true Vermahnese play the music would have been all the more impressive. 

The beat continued and I, with my back to the crowd, undid my cloak, slowly removing it from my shoulders and tossing it to the very back of the stage. 

Then I began to move my hips. 

The dance required perfect control of my stomach and abdominal muscles, along with the bones of my spine and hips. It was a hard dance to perfect, and it was one of my favourites. My hips and belly twitched, lifting, circling, undulating to the music which, as planned, slowly began to pick up in pace. Shizelle was near the front and her eyes were afire, one of the few visible withing the ring of light, her mouth in a wide smile. She’d shown an aptitude for a few of the dances we had done, but not this one. 

I spun and twirled, getting closer to the edge of the stage where the steps led down into the crowd and slowly found I was losing myself into the music and the dance. 

I’d forgotten how _alive_ I felt when I was performing. All eyes were on me and I knew precisely what I was doing; I knew what each part of my body needed to be doing and when. It was a practiced response; one I was good at. 

I realized, dimly, that the conversations had died down yet again, the only conversation being small noises of intrigue and interest, awe and admiration. I was captivating, I knew. I also knew that was not the humblest line of thought, but I was proud. 

I knew the next part of my dance was sure to amaze; currently I had been maintaining the same tempo, keeping my hips turning, twisting, making figure eights. I shimmied back from the edge of the stage and looked to the musicians. 

“ _Avira_!” I shouted to them. It meant _faster_ in my tongue. They knew the signal and upped the beat of the music; I followed along, my torso still as my hips flicked up and down, in rhythm to the music which was getting faster, faster. 

I threw my head back and laughed, my hips still going, the musicians trying to outdo me. 

Eventually, I ended up in a full body shimmy, the beadwork and bells on my costume and headpiece jingling with the musicians. 

With a final flourish, we all stopped; my hands were arched above my head, crossed at the wrist. My breathing was heavy, my chest rising and falling with the release of the dance. There was a moment of silence and then applause erupted around the room, along with a couple whoops. One of which definitely had come from Varric. 

I dropped my arms and gestured to the musicians, who were all grinning. Then I stepped forward, bowing to the crowd and their applause. 

In a moment, it was over, and I descended the raised dais to congratulations and pats on the arm. Shizelle came bounding over. 

“Goddess, that was incredible! Reina, you have _got_ to teach me that dance! Please!” She gripped my hand ferociously. I laughed, squeezing her hand back. 

“We can start tomorrow.” I was still warm, thrilled from the dance, the exertion. I withdrew my hand from hers. “I need some air.” I breathed. She let me go and disappeared back into the crowd with a nod. 

“Well that explains the sex!” Iron Bull boomed, throwing an arm around my shoulder. “Damn, girl, that was incredible. How did you do that?” 

“Years of practice.” I turned to smile at him. 

“No shit. Half the time your hips were moving, and your tits were perfectly still. And then you’d turn and your ass would just be…woah.” he shook his head, at a loss for words. I laughed, shrugging myself out of his arms. 

“Bull, how much have you had to drink?” 

“Almost enough to try to dance.” He said with a chuckle. I rolled my eyes and continued toward the front door, still needing that fresh air. 

“Alright, Pearl, that was impressive. Also, looks like my nickname is quite apt.” A voice said from behind me, as I finally escaped into the cool night. I turned and smiled at Varric, who was wearing his gala best, which still was unbuttoned to show off his chest. He flicked one of the pearls in my hair. 

“You think so?” 

He nodded, catching up to me. “I take it that was something you learned back in Vermahna?” 

I shook my head. “No. That dance was my mother’s specialty. She taught me here in Orlais, though I did start some training when I was younger.” 

“No kidding? Well, it looks like you’d be doing her proud.” He smiled back at me. For whatever reason, that compliment coming from Varric made my heart swell, and a tear touched my eye. “Ah, shit, Cort’esa. That wasn’t supposed to get you all teary-eyed.” Varric said as I wiped away the droplet from my lashes. I laughed. 

“It’s a good teary-eyed.” I said. We’d reached the landing of the stairs, and I leaned against the cold stone, Varric propping himself up beside me, crossing his arms and looking out toward the tavern. 

“You seem happier tonight.” He said, after a moment. I turned to stare at him sharply. He continued. “You’ve been almost…dimmed as of late. I know what heartbreak is like but don’t let it kill your fire.” He turned to stare at me, his usual cocky grin gone, replaced by a sincere look, which was strange on him. 

I reached across the space between us and rested a hand on his shoulder. 

“Thanks, Varric.” 

“Well, that’s my moment of wisdom for the day. Now I’m going to head back in and see if I can’t annoy our lady Seeker.” He pushed off the wall, gave me a nod, and disappeared back up the stairs. I lolled my head back on my shoulders, feeling the cool air whisper across my skin. It was starting to feel cold, and I figured I should probably head back in after a moment. Derek was probably watching from the doorway, not wanting completely to leave, not wanting to let me out of his sights. I smiled to myself. He really needed a break from me… 

I turned to go back up the stairs. Derek was, as I’d suspected, standing just within the doors, outlined by the light. I made my way back to him, humming to myself as I climbed the steps. 

“I forgot to tell you, what with all the party planning.” Derek said, after a moment, “I got the information you asked for.” 

I turned sharply to him, face puzzled. Then it dawned on me. “Oh!” I frowned. “Damnit. I’d completely forgotten.” Which made me feel horrible. Derek shook his head. 

“Don’t worry. It’s only been a couple weeks. It will mean a lot that you visit at all.” 

I nodded, suddenly feeling a lot sadder. I gripped Derek’s arm. “I want to leave tomorrow.” 

“I thought that might be the case.” He nodded, patting my hand. “I’ve spoken to Leliana and the others and they are aware we will be away for a while. They suggested we take some other soldiers with us…” he trailed off. I shrugged. 

“Whatever you think is best. I want to travel quickly.” I did not want to put off what I’d taken on as my responsibility any longer. 

“I will bring a couple soldiers then. Eli, for sure. Maybe even Mirren.” 

I nodded. “Good choices, the both of them, if they can be spared from their duties.” 

We toured the party a bit longer. Cullen had disappeared completely, and I felt a weight lift from my chest, relaxing to a deeper level than I had before. 

“Reina!” Sera appeared. “Wondered where you’d got to. That was a mad dance.” She gave me a once over. “Didn’t think that sort of thing was possible, really. You looked like a snake. Is that the dance? Something snakey…slither dance?” She shook her head. “I gotta know how you did it.” 

I shook my head, laughter overtaking me. “It’s not that crazy, I promise.” I lifted my arms to a curved T shape around me. “You just have to imagine that your hips are attached to hoops, circles.” I tried to figure out how to explain, pushing one hip away, slowly, from my body, lifting it and bringing it back as I lowered it. “You make a circle on each side. Then it’s just a matter of going faster.” 

Sera snorted, watching me. “That’s got to be one of the easier moves though. How’d you do those… _bump, bumps_ with your chest?” She thrust her chest forward, trying to imitate my move. “It was like someone just punched you in the heart.” 

This sent me into peals of laughter, and I dropped my arms to my hips, bending over myself with mirth. 

“I need to remember that.” I said, once I’d regained my composure. “Punched my heart…” I shook my head. “You mean this?” I did the move and she lit up. 

“Yeah!” 

“It doesn’t really have a name.” I dropped my arms to my side again. “But from now I’m calling it eh Heart Puncher. Just for you.” 

“Touched, I am.” 

Just as quick, she was off again. I regretted not asking her about the trick she’d pulled on Solas. I hadn’t seen him either, though as I turned I spotted him in the shadows, eyes taking in the revelries with his usual stoicism. I approached and he nodded as I neared. 

“That was quite something, Cort’esa.” He said, nodding toward the stage. “I had not planned to stay long but I did want to tell you you performed quite remarkably. I am pleased I had the chance to bear witness to your dance.” 

I laughed. “Thank you, Solas. I’m glad I could tear you away from your painting for the evening.” His mouth twitched in an almost smile. “It is almost done, is it not?” 

He shrugged at this, wrapping his arms around himself. “Hard to say. It all depends on the next few months.” I knew he was alluding to the Inquisitor’s decisions in the next little while. I was happy staying out of the more intense political discussions; I had experienced enough politics in my own land. I did not want to interfere in another’s. 

“I believe I will take my leave, however.” Solas said, dropping his arms. 

“Already?” 

“Well, a bunch of beetles got into my paints a few days ago and I only just started re-mixing the colours.” He shook his head, annoyed. “Such a waste of my time. The paints were perfect.” Grumbling, he left and I watched him go. _So the beetles_ had _been for the prank on Solas._

The night wore on with nothing more of note happening. I toured for a while until I recalled that I would be leaving the next day and should probably get some rest. I turned to Derek. 

“I’ll speak to Eli and Mirren tonight, and see if they can come tomorrow—” 

“Already taken care of. I spoke to all the necessary parties, and we are cleared to travel.” I beamed at him, placing a hand on his arm. 

“You truly are not given enough credit for all the work you do.” I said, shaking my head in wonder. “Thank you, Derek.” 

We turned to leave out through the main doors, both wanting to take the long way back to my rooms, to enjoy the strangely temperate night we were experiencing, and getting a breath of fresh air after the crowd. 

Exiting, a shadow pulled away from near the doorway and Derek and I both turned, wary. It was just Cullen and he looked guiltily between us, before squaring his jaw and inclining his head to Derek. 

“Might I have a private word with the Cort’esa?” He asked. 

“No.” Derek crossed his arms. “Whatever you have to say to her can be said in front of me.” His gaze was cold steel, grey eyes flat. Cullen swallowed, and then turned to me with a sigh. 

“That was an impressive dance.” He said, somewhat haltingly. I bit my lip, brow furrowed. Did he wait for me just to compliment my dance? He could have said that in the hall. As if reading my thoughts, he straightened a bit. “I also wanted to apologise for how I reacted after the d’Hessi mission. I spoke harshly. I’m…I thought I was over my distrust of mages.” 

“Being a mage is part of who I am.” I replied evenly, his words making sense. He wanted to mend bridges? Fine. I was not about to get my hopes up, and I said as much with my following words. “I can’t change that part of who I am, and I will never try. So while the apology is appreciated, please do not get my hopes up that things can be the same between us. That you still care. You’ve made it clear you cannot trust me and I’d hate to make you uncomfortable.” 

“That’s not what I—” He began. 

“Goodnight, Commander. Enjoy the rest of the gala.” 

I held my head high as I disappeared down the stairs into the night. I’d survived my first real encounter with him. I was proud, even though the cracks in the walls around my heart were beginning to show again.


	24. Stuff of Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *TW: non-con/rape

The camp was quiet. Mirren and Eli were getting the tents set up, and Derek was looking out into the darkness. He looked concerned, his hand on his sword. 

“Derek, relax. We’re less than half a day from Skyhold.” The only reason we had stopped was because of the snow; falling thick and fast. It wasn’t immensely cold out, which also meant the snow was collecting, thick and damp, on everything. We’d found shelter under some great fir trees which kept off the worst of the snow. We’d taken almost two days to get to Henri’s mother’s house, where she’d been overwhelmingly kind at the news of her son’s death. She’d cried for a while, grasping my hands with ferocity. Derek had suggested I not make it seem quite so much like it was my fault, since it wasn’t. I had resisted, at first, but he’d said that the moment needed to be about how honourable her son had been. I’d agreed to his statement. She’d requested that we stay with her that evening, as the snow had begun to fall heavily shortly after we’d arrived. I knew the warm weather that had hurried our travels to the small homestead could not last, and I felt that this snow was going to be heavier than we’d seen in a while. My suspicions, so far, were holding true. 

“I know.” Derek said. “I just…have a bad feeling.” 

I was about to reply when a shadow separated from the darkness, the glint of metal alerting me to the danger as the shadow bore down on Derek. 

“Derek!” I shouted, too late; he’d already seen the shadow and drew his sword, but he, too, was too late. The shadow’s blade slashes across Derek’s chest, and he crumpled, hand slackening around the hilt of his sword. 

Mirren and Eli were immediately on guard, pulling out their own weapons. More shadows poured out, drawing them into a sword-fight, but the two soldiers were caught unawares. The shadows moved with unreal grace and speed, and I felt myself grow stiff, paralyzed with fear. 

I knew those moves…these were not the blundering attackers that Chiral had sent before. They were the _Jir’pana_ , the Living Shadows. Assassins. _Monsters_. 

Chiral finally had me.

The third shadow, the one who had felled Derek, strode over to me with lethal grace. Mirren and Eli were not holding up and I knew they would not win this fight. He pulled off a hood and my heart nearly stopped. 

“Hello, Reina.” 

“Amran.” 

“My father will be glad to have you back.” He said, casually. Then he reached toward me. 

I finally recovered the movement in my body, and I spun away from him, his hand grazing against my shoulder as I turned into the blizzard. I did not know where to go but I knew I could _not_ be taken by Amran. If Chiral was a monster…Amran was a thousand monsters. He’d frightened me as a child, only a few years older than me, manipulating and hurting those around him to get his way. Chiral had always said the boy would grow out of it. It appeared as if Chiral had instead fed this insanity, turning Amran into a greater villain than anyone could have suspected. That he was _Jir’pana_ was not surprising; they took only the most depraved, the most lacking in humanity. There were not that many of them...and they'd found me. 

I tore into the snow, lifting my legs high to try and get through the almost knee-deep drifts. 

I felt something strike me—hard—in the back, and I stumbled in the snow, going down. 

I heard a cry from behind me; it had sounded like Mirren. 

_No_ …I thought weakly. I tried to pull myself out of the snow, twisting to see what had struck me in the back, just above my hip. 

It was a knife. 

In a moment, Amran was standing over me, two more knives in his hands. He stood on my ankle, pressing coldly into the snow, as I lay face down. 

“Keep trying to run.” He said, bending down, his voice carrying with the wind. “Please. It will only make this more fun for me.” 

I tried to squirm away, my face all but buried in the snow, my body in panic mode. I couldn’t even feel the cold, with the adrenaline coursing through me. Struggling was the wrong thing to do; I felt the pressure of Amran’s foot build on my ankle, the bones and tendons grinding against one another. I cried out; he was going to break my ankle! 

When I was sure my joint couldn’t take it anymore, Amran removed his foot. I tried to scramble away, but he reached down, pulling my hood off and grabbing a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back painfully. 

“I am excited to test your limits.” He purred into my ear. His other hand went to his knife, still protruding from my back, and he pulled it out. I gasped, feeling the warmth of my own blood seeping into the coat around the wound. Amran grabbed one of my arms, pulling it painfully behind my back, pressing it against my wound. “Heal it.” He commanded. I wanted to refuse, to let myself bleed out and die on the ground, but his next words made me reconsider. “Heal it, and we won’t kill everyone we can back at your precious Skyhold. Starting with the blond man. Cullen, is it?” 

“You’ve been watching us?” I choked out. The only reply I got was a tightening of Amran’s hand on my wrist, making me gasp. 

I did as I was told, hot tears streaming down my face. 

“Good.” Amran’s hand released mine, and he turned me over, one hand still gripped in my hair. “Now, it’s time to go home.” 

His sneering face was the last thing I remembered, before he pinched a nerve on my neck, sending me into unconsciousness. 

*** 

I awoke later, woozy, dizzy. 

I was lying on cold, hard stone, but aside from that, I could not tell where I was. I could tell my eyes were open, but I could not see anything. It was utter and complete blackness. For a moment, I panicked, thinking I’d gone blind. But I quelled the fear; Amran wouldn’t do anything permanent to me. If Chiral wanted me back, he wanted me back _whole_. At least, physically. 

I knew the _Jir’pana_ were not only masters at killing, but also of breaking someone, mind, body and spirit. I swallowed back my panic, roiling only slightly beneath my surface. 

I did not hold any hope for escape; Mirren and Eli were inevitably dead. And Derek…I sobbed, a choked noise into the blackness. Derek had finally died trying to protect me. 

I was alone. 

I sat up, shackles rattling as I moved. Clearly, my wrists, chained together, were attached to something else. I shook my hands again, pulling. I met some resistance above. Alright, so my wrists were chained to something _above_ me. 

I tried to stand, my aching body protesting. I wondered how long I had been unconscious; Amran had used a nerve to render me unconscious but I suspected he’d then used something to keep me that way. An herb, likely. 

I became acutely aware that I had been stripped down to my undergarments and was in nothing but a thin shift. I shivered, and a noise made me stop. 

“Welcome back to the land of the living.” Amran’s chill voice echoed around me. I had to be in a small chamber, considering how he sounded. I stiffened, resisting recoiling from his voice. I wanted to at least _appear_ as if I was not afraid. 

A hand caressed my face. 

“Why can’t I see?” I asked, voice stronger than I’d expected, but still quaky with fear. Amran laughed. 

“Ah, yes. I’m glad you asked. I don’t know if you remember but my magical skill set was illusion. Mind magic.” I swallowed. I _had_ forgotten; Amran had never pursued his magic, as a child. “This is one of the many tricks I learned from some of the other _Jir’pana_.” His hand drifted down my cheek to my neck. It was neither a threat, nor intimate—yet. “It’s unsettling, isn’t it?” He asked, his lips next to my ear. “You could be anywhere…surrounded by all sorts of evil.” 

“I _know_ what evil surrounds me.” My voice shook, but this time with a spurt of fury. “There isn’t a word to say what a disgusting, foul demon you are.” 

The hand tightened on my throat and a kiss was placed on my earlobe. My mouth opened, seeking air. The kiss turned into a breathy chuckle. After a moment that seemed an eternity, the hand released, and I pulled in a gasp of air. 

“Compliments will not bring mercy.” He whispered against my skin. 

“Why don’t you just kill me?” I croaked, hot tears streaming from my blind eyes. 

Amran made a _tsk_ ing noise, withdrawing his hand. “There’s no fun in that.” The soft hiss of a blade being pulled from its sheath stilled me. “Besides, my father is giving you to me. You’re my own little Cort’esa.” 

“I’m no one’s to _give_.” I spat outward, hoping to hit Amran. I was met with a fist to the side of my face, sending my head ricocheting backward. I tasted blood; I must have cut my cheek on my teeth with the hit. 

“You are nothing but a whore.” I could hear the sneer in his voice. “You and your kind always thought you were special. Anyone can do what you do.” I chose not to reply, the iron taste in my mouth reminding me that he was not above striking a defenseless person. Which was not a surprise. He had no humanity within him. “In fact, I got to enjoy many of your whore friends, before we sent them away or had them killed. Father had me pick the best to remain. I even got to taste some of the younger ones…” I retched, sagging in my bonds. He laughed. “Does that upset you?” 

I shook my head, refusing to speak. His hand was on my face again, gripping my cheeks between his fingers roughly. His other hand brought my wrists above my head. “Tell me!” He growled into my ear. “Tell me how you feel when I tell you I fucked all the Cort’esa…” He started listing names and I couldn’t hold back the small keening noise that came from me. “Tell me…” he brought his mouth to mine, tasting the blood there. I twisted my head away. 

“Fuck you, Amran. I… _hate_ you. You make me sick.” I managed, dry sobs wracking my body. “I’ve never hated anyone as much as I hate you. More than your father. I want to kill…” I didn’t manage the rest, a piercing grief halting my words. Amran laughed. 

“You’ll learn to fear me. You’ll learn to shrink at the sound of my breathing.” 

Suddenly, I could see again. 

I was, as I’d suspected in a cell. It was dark, but not as dark as what it had just been. The room was almost entirely bare, a set of double doors across from me, under a low ceiling. The tower looked elven, like some of the ruins in the Dales. I looked around for any sign of a weapon or anything that might aid me to escape. Amran laughed. 

“You won’t escape. Your guard is dead, probably hidden under a foot of snow by now.” He smiled, and it was worse than I had imagined. “It’s been snowing for hours…no one will be coming to find you here. You’re all mine.” 

For whatever reason, this, along with being able to see again, gave me a burst of fury and a will to escape. I tugged my wrists out of Amran’s grasp and kicked out toward him. I wasn’t wearing any shoes, so my kick did nothing. 

Nothing but arouse him. 

“Please, keep struggling.” He reached for my wrists again. “It makes this so much more fun.” 

_Don’t struggle…_ a small voice in my head suggested, _don’t let him enjoy this._ I willed myself to still, fighting against the instinct to fight, tooth and nail, with the wretch in front of me. 

“Pity.” Amran’s arousal did not diminish. “But no matter.” I tried to ignore the soul-deep fear of the knowledge of what was going to happen next. 

“It’s…it’s the highest offence to violate a Cort’esa.” I tried to sound threatening. Amran reached for his belt, his other hand still suspending my hands above my head. 

“I told you already. You are nothing but a whore. And whores are there for the taking.” 

His mouth was on mine again, and he bit me, hard on the lip, drawing more blood. I tried to bring up my knee between his, but he arched away from me. 

“Ah ah.” He shook his head. “Play nice.” 

“Never.” I spat. He shrugged and reached for the chain securing my wrists to the wall. He fixed them tighter to the wall, freeing up his hands, undoing his breeches completely, his other hand lifting my thin shift. 

As he approached, I tried to knee him again. He gripped my throat, hard, holding the knife from before against my ear. He growled against my skin. “Try it again and I start removing body parts.” 

I did not try again. 

My heart fell into my stomach as he pressed against me, his arousal clear, hard against my leg. He pulled my legs violently apart and then pressed himself into me fully and painfully. I screamed, arching my hips away. I’d never been taken against my will, unprepared. I had not expected the pain. I tried to block everything out, tried to breath, but I felt like I was dying, my soul being drawn from me painfully, bleeding out through my pores, trying to escape my body. 

The small blessing that I got was that Amran, clearly aroused by my tears and screams, finished quickly, spilling his seed in me with a grunt of satisfaction. He pulled out, straightening, releasing my hips. 

“I thought you’d be better.” He shrugged. “No matter.” The blackness was back again, and I shuddered at the sudden blindness again, my throat raw. “I’ll be sending my other men in. It’s been a long while since they’ve had a true Cort’esa…” 

With that promise heavy in the air, I was left alone, to the sound of his receding footprints. He’d left my strung up, and my shoulders quickly began to ache, suspended as they were above my head. 

If I’d wanted to die before, it did not compare to this moment. 

*** 

True to his word, Amran sent in his other men. The two who had helped him kill my guards, my friends… 

I suspected Amran was watching as they took me. I did not weep. I could not. 

As the second one finished, mouth sticky on my neck, I heard Amran laughing. I blinked against the utter and complete dark. I felt a warm body near me, not the one who had just been pressed against me, and I felt the tightness of the chains above my head slacken, my arms dropping. My entire body slumped, and I fell to the ground, where I had awoken. 

A booted foot connected with my stomach, and I felt a rib crack. I cried out, curling around myself. 

“Get comfy, Cort’esa. This will be your home for a few nights, until we can travel again…back to the warmth of Vermahna.” 

I did cry then, curled around myself, my chains cold against my chest, my rib screaming in agony, full of the seed of the foulest creatures on the planet. 

Quickly, blessedly, unconsciousness took me. 

*** 

“Reina?” 

I awoke with a start, disoriented, dazed. 

Cullen tore across the room to me, reaching for me. 

“Cullen?” I was confused; how had he gotten here so quickly? How was he here? No one could know where I was by now…I ignored these questions as his arms wrapped around me. I hissed in pain as he jarred my broken rib. 

“Yes, Reina, I’m here.” He pulled me into his arms, and I relaxed, letting myself warm to him, tears beginning to fall freely down my cheeks, hot with relief. 

“How?” I croaked. He shook his head. “That’s not important now. We need to get out of here.” He lifted me to my feet, reaching for my chains, to try to undo them. But…instead he simply pulled my chains tighter, straining my shoulders, making my rib cry out as my spine was strained. 

“Cullen…you’re hurting me.” I gasped. “Undo my chains…” 

“You’re in no place to make demands.” He said, smirking. He leaned in, kissing me. “Besides, we have time. Don’t you want to taste me again?” He kissed me harder. 

_This isn’t right…_ I recoiled from him. He cocked his head at me. 

“Don’t you love me, Reina?” His amber eyes stared into mine. “Don’t you want me to fuck you?” 

I shook my head. “You’re not Cullen…” It was a trick, I could tell now, and I felt sick that Amran or one of his men had stolen Cullen’s face from my mind, to put to such purpose. “Stop! You’re _not_ Cullen!” I shouted at the vision. 

“Think how good it would be with him…” The non-Cullen murmured against my throat, caressing a hand down my body. “Think how badly you’ve wanted him…to feel him, all around you…” 

“Not like this.” I said through grit teeth. “You will _not_ use him against me. I will not allow it.” 

His face morphed into that of Amran, who shook his head. “It could have made you happy…” 

“Only to take it away!” I snarled back. I was in pain, but I refused to submit. He had taken the thing that was most holy to me, tarnishing it. “You…he would never do what you did! He would want to help me first. He’d never hurt me.” 

“Well, he’s a fool.” Amran released my wrists, and I dropped my arms, hunched over myself. “Nothing makes a man feel more powerful than seeing the fear in someone’s eyes as he takes them.” 

“That doesn’t make you a man. That makes you worse than a rat.” I muttered. 

Amran yanked my chains toward him, causing me to stumble forward, falling hard on my knees. I cried out, breaking my fall with my chained wrists. 

“Being a man means being powerful. My father knew this. Your father was too weak to know this.” 

“My father was more of a man than you or your father will ever be, combined.” I retorted. 

Amran kneed me in the face, knocking me to the side. I curled around myself again, my nose bleeding freely down my cheek as I lay there. 

“Your father was a fool and he died for it. Your mother…she was a whore. I only wish I’d have been there when she’d been killed…I would have drawn it out.” 

“She would have killed you.” I laughed weakly. “She was stronger than you’ll ever be.” 

Amran kicked me over, sending me sprawling. 

“I’m going to use everything at my disposal to make you hurt. You’ll bleed for your father, your mother _and_ yourself. _Combined_.” He used my own word against me, delight clear in his voice. 

I curled to the wall, my back to him. He knelt beside me, resting a hand on my shoulder. 

“Catch your breath while you can. This tower is going to rattle with your screams.”


	25. Visions

I drifted on the edge of consciousness. 

Blackness was constant on the edge of my vision, when I could even open my eyes. They’d given up on chaining me. My wrists were unshackled. I was lucky if I could hold myself up. It had only been four days since Amran had made his promise and he was making good on it. He and his companions took me to the brink of death, then rested me, healing me with potions and poultices and magic. I’d rest for a few hours…then they’d begin again. 

I was kept in darkness for a great deal of the time, Amran using his dark magic to blind me. I was sure this was to drive me insane, more than as a precaution to keep me from escaping. 

I’d given up all hope on that. And they knew it. 

What I wished for now, more than anything, was that my captors would eventually go too far and kill me. 

But they were professionals. They would not let that happen. 

The only times that Amran gave me my sight back was when he wanted me to watch as he tortured me. He only did this sometimes, when my blind terror was not quite enough. 

There was no escape in my mind. Amran also made sure of that; he used his mental magic to make sure that, even in my sleep and when I tried to separate my mind from the inhuman things I was experiencing, I was trapped in the terror of nightmares, reliving my worst moments; my mother’s death, my father’s death, Derek’s death, Henri’s death…he even put new faces on the bodies, so I got to watch all my friends die in the gruesome ways my parents had, Henri had… 

I was broken. Inside and out. 

“That’s enough.” Amran’s voice cut through the pain-haze of whatever I’d just been experiencing. It all blended together, peaks of pain letting me know I was being cut or burned or broken. The pain lulled to a dull roar at his words. “We will leave tomorrow. The snow has melted enough.” 

“Yes, sir.” I rarely heard the other men speak, I was distantly aware of my torturer’s voice, receding. 

My eyes opened, at least partially, one of them swollen nearly completely shut, and I realized I could see again. Amran was standing over me, smiling. 

“You look…amazing.” He reached down and I blinked at his hands as they stroked across my face and my body, swollen and bruised in many parts. “Like a blooming flower. My beautiful canvas.” 

I could not reply, instead drifting into unconsciousness, nightmares plaguing my brain. 

*** 

When I awoke again, I knew something had changed. 

I was not greeted with a blow, or a sick caress. 

Distantly, I could hear what sounded like fighting. 

My head flopped in the direction of the door, which was closed. Something thudded against it, and I sighed painfully. 

_More tricks…_ I thought to myself. No one knew where I was, so this could not be a rescue…but that wouldn’t stop Amran from faking it, again. Had he not realized I was already broken? He had won… 

The door opened, and I struggled to keep my eyes open. 

Who was it now? Who was my “rescuer” come to save me, only to hurt me, turning traitor? Amran had used many of my friends’ faces against me… 

I was not surprised when Cullen came through the door, armour covered in blood, a sword in hand. 

“So real…” I laughed, spitting out blood. 

“Reina.” The voice was hardly above a whisper. Cullen skidded across the floor to me, his sword forgotten at the door. “Oh Maker. No, _no!_ ” 

“It’s over, Amran. I know…it’s not him.” I sighed, my eyes closing. “Cullen…doesn’t care.” 

“Reina, it’s me.” His voice was tight, hoarse. “It’s not…a trick. I’m here. I care…I…” his voice gave way. 

“Go to hell, Amran.” I breathed, feeling the creeping blackness finally take me. 

_It was finally over…_


	26. An Awakening

Cullen stared, unblinking, down at the pages in front of him. He hated writing letters, telling someone that their child or wife or husband was dead. At least one letter didn’t have to be written; she’d had no one left… 

A knock sounded at the door. He did not move. 

The door opened hesitatingly. 

“Commander…the funeral is beginning soon.” 

Cullen’s head snapped up. He blinked at the soldier. He hadn’t slept much in the past couple days, and it was showing. The words were slow to sink in, but eventually he straightened. 

“I’m coming.” He said. 

He followed to the door, closing it behind him. His movements felt slow, too deliberate. 

A small procession was gathering by the front gate, many people wanting to come pay respects. Cullen joined them. He did not want to go, did not want to be surrounded by grief. 

Shizelle was standing, stony faced, with Krem. She had dark circles under her eyes and also looked like she had not slept in days. Cullen knew for a fact that she hadn’t. 

Dorian approached, supporting Derek, who looked bulkier than usual, his chest sporting heavy bandages beneath his clothes. Cullen heart swelled with respect toward the older man. He’d had a harrowing journey and had lost so much and had still managed to make it to Skyhold, to alert the Inquisition of Reina’s capture. 

_Reina…_

Cullen looked back to Shizelle, wanting to go to her, to talk to her…but the Inquisitor came between them. 

“Cullen. I’m sorry about what happened.” The Herald’s voice was soft and Cullen nodded, stony faced. 

“They knew the dangers. We just hadn’t expected another attack…” He shook his head, took a deep breath and gave a soft smile. “At least it’s over.” 

He followed the processional down the walk, to a small clearing in which they burned bodies for funeral rites. Mother Giselle was standing over the bodies, arms raised, speaking of Andraste, and how she, too, had returned by fire to the Maker. Cullen listened half-heartedly. He wanted to talk to Shizelle. 

After a moment, Mother Giselle turned to him, beckoning him forward. 

“You knew them best.” She said, her voice somber. 

Cullen took a deep breath and began to speak. “Eli…was a friend. He’d been with the Inquisition since the beginning. He cared for the recruits like a father, making sure they were well-trained, well-fed. Bolstering their confidence. You wouldn’t know it to look at him, but he had the best naughty jokes. He will be missed by all here who were touched by his contagious laugh.” He paused, moving to the next pyre. “Mirren…she was such a courageous soldier. When she came to the Inquisition, she was shy, quiet. She probably spent too much time around Eli,” Cullen smiled sadly, “because she quickly grew to be a sarcastic, outgoing woman, quick with a comeback or a joke. The Herald’s Rest won’t be the same without her lightning-quick tongue. She had no living family left, but she considered the Inquisition her family.” 

They were all silent for a moment, and then Mother Giselle spoke the final words. Cullen watched the sparks fly upward, almost lost against the bright sky. The sun was bright that day, harsh against the white snow that had blanketed the mountains the days before, still clinging to the shadows, unmelting. 

Cullen closed his eyes against the bright sunlight, saying his own prayer to the Maker. 

_Please let her wake up…_

The funeral over, a few Chantry sisters remained with Giselle to make sure the bodies burned completely. The rest returned to Skyhold, over the bridge, to carry about their regular days. Many of the soldiers invited Cullen to the Herald’s Rest, to raise a toast to their fallen comrades. Cullen declined, saying he would join them later. He had somewhere to be first. 

He crossed the lawn to the stairs around the back of the keep. Shizelle was just in front of him. He called to her. 

“Shizelle—” 

She turned, smiling warmly at him. Her eyes were dry and she looked older than her twenty years. She shook her head before he had a chance to finish his question, his reason for approaching her. 

“No change.” She said softly, waiting on the steps for him to catch up. 

“I would like to sit with her.” 

“Of course. Derek will be coming in, too. We’re still trying to pool our magic, to help heal her.” 

They slid past the guard at Reina’s door, who nodded to them. 

The room was warm, a fire constantly burning in the hearth. The room smelled of herbs. There were chairs around the bed, the curtains drawn back to reveal the figure beneath the blankets below. Solas was in the room, mixing herbs. He’d not attended the funeral, instead electing to watch over Reina. He looked up as they entered. Shizelle nodded to him and he set down his work, exiting the way they had entered. He murmured something to Shizelle as she passed, and she nodded. Cullen ignored them, instead making his way to the edge of the bed. 

_So small…_ he thought, sitting at the available chair beside Reina’s bed. _She’s so small…_

She’d always been tiny, almost a head shorter than Cullen, but in the large bed, so still, so quiet…she looked dead. The only indication that she wasn’t was the slow rise and fall of her chest. Sitting, Cullen reached for one of her hands, careful of the bandaging. 

“Reina…” his voice was thick with emotion and exhaustion; he hadn’t left her bed since they’d brought her back, five days ago. In that time, he’d only gotten a few hours of sleep, here and there. “Reina…please wake up.” 

The bruises colouring her skin were beginning to clear, to turn from dark blues and purples to yellows and greens. Her left arm was still in a splint, as were two of her fingers on her right hand. She had numerous broken ribs and more cuts and burns covering her skin than not. Her skin, once so pale and unmarked…not an inch had been spared from some form of torture. Cullen still could not close his eyes without seeing her lying on the floor of that cell that they’d been keeping her in, covered in blood, hardly breathing. She hadn’t even looked human. No one had expected her to live through the ride back to Skyhold. And yet, here she was. 

“She may yet not wake.” Shizelle said softly from across the bed, taking the chair opposite Cullen. “We can’t know how extensive her injuries are, the ones we can’t see…” She’d told him this before, and he’d responded the same way each time, the same as he did now: 

“She will wake.” 

Shizelle stared at him a moment longer, and he tore his eyes to the battered face of the woman he loved. The woman who he had been stupid enough to let go. 

Shizelle reached for Reina’s other hand, a simple touch, closing her eyes. She and Derek had taken to meditating at Reina’s side, pouring their own magics into her body, in the hope that somewhere, deep down, her own healing magics were working to heal her. Unfortunately, the only one who could know if it was working was Reina. And she offered no answers. 

Cullen sat in the too-hot room until Shizelle was slumping in her seat, head tilted forward, drained of energy. 

“Shizelle…it’s enough.” He said. Shizelle withdrew her hand and nodded, slumping in the chair. 

The door opened behind them and Derek entered. 

“Perfect timing.” Shizelle said. She blinked hard a couple times. “Just give me a minute.” 

“It’s alright, he can take my seat.” Cullen said, reluctantly releasing Reina’s hand. “I’m not helping…” 

“I think it helps, that you’re here.” Derek contradicted. Cullen stood anyways, choosing instead to lean against the post of the bed. Derek took his seat and did much the same that Shizelle had just done, taking his near-daughter’s hand and holding it gently, pouring what energy he could into the girl. 

They sat, the three of them in silent vigil over the bed of the girl they each loved for different reasons. 

*** 

“You need to sleep.” 

“I need to be with her, when she wakes.” 

“The moment she wakes, you will be alerted.” Shizelle retorted, ushering him to the door. A week had passed since the funeral, and Cullen was reluctant to leave. He’d been certain he’d felt Reina’s hand twitch beneath his, just moments before. Shizelle told him he was delirious with exhaustion. 

“I’m coming back after I get something to eat and sleep for…a couple hours. You need to sleep too. And Derek.” He argued, though he lacked the energy to make it convincing. 

“Fine.” Shizelle said in a huff. “I don’t think anything will change. But Goddess, are you stubborn. _Asiname_.” she muttered. Cullen’s heart twinged at the memory of Reina calling him the same thing. 

He left and did what he had promised; he grabbed a quick meal from the kitchens, deserted after the evening meal, then retired to his quarters to sleep. He did not think he would, as worried as he was about missing Reina’s awakening, but the exhaustion of the past few days caught up and he was asleep almost immediately, lying clothed on his bed as the sun began its long descent in the sky. 

*** 

He awoke some hours later, the darkness outside now complete. 

He sat up with a start, panicked he had missed Reina’s return to consciousness. But all was silent beyond his room. No one had come to fetch him, as Shizelle had promised. 

He could not get back to sleep, not that he would try, and so he descended the ladder to his office, and pulled a cloak over his clothes. He was wearing simply breeches and a thick shirt, not wanting to have to undress or dress quickly, should the news come that the Cort’esa had awoken. Exiting his room into the cold air, he walked across the yard. The snow that had fallen heavily the week before was now trampled and mud brown from so much foot traffic. It still clung to the corners of the keep where the sun did not fully penetrate the shadows. 

As he approached the door to Reina’s room, Dorian appeared from the door to the tower. He brightened somewhat when he saw Cullen. 

“Ah, good. Derek is watching the patient right now and I was hoping to drag him away, get some food and drink into him. Shizelle was supposed to take over the watch but she is occupied, right now—” 

“I’ve got it.” Cullen replied curtly. Dorian nodded and followed him into the room. 

Derek was asleep, head resting in his arms, hunched uncomfortably over the edge of the bed. Dorian went to his side, shaking him gently to wakefulness. 

“C’mon, let’s get you into a proper bed. You’re of no use to anyone half-dead yourself.” He said gently. Derek, to his credit, did not argue, and stood, leaning heavily on the younger mage, favouring his side. He nodded wearily to Cullen as they passed. 

The fire had died somewhat, so Cullen went about putting a few more logs back onto the embers to build the flame back up. Then he went to the seat Derek had vacated, sitting heavily, pulling the chair closer to the bed, so Reina’s face was in reach. The swelling of her features had diminished, but was that due to time or her body healing itself? He truly believed it was the latter. He kept that fire of hope burning in his heart, refusing to give up. 

He stroked her cheek gently, humming below his breath, an old lullaby from his youth, from before his time as a templar. 

Reina’s eyelids fluttered and his heart shuddered. 

He froze, one hand hovering above Reina’s skin. 

_Again…_ He thought, as if will-power alone would wake her. _Again!_

*** 

I could hear singing. Or not singing, but humming… 

_Time to wake up, little bird_

My mother’s voice and pet name for me, echoing in my mind, was a surprise. I was beginning to be aware of things around me; the singing, someone gently touching my cheek, and stifling heat. But my mother’s voice drew me from these things, back into the safety and comfort of the world I had been living in since…when was it? What had happened? I could vaguely remember bad things, a great deal of pain…but it all seemed so distant. I preferred to remember the good memories I had been reliving. 

_You have still a life ahead of you, little bird. Don’t waste it here._

Her voice was pushing me now, growing distant, thrusting me back into the real world. 

My eyes opened and I could see little in the darkness. But I _could_ see. I was not blinded by magic…my memories were still foggy but fear and pain still stabbed at me from my time in the cell. 

“Reina…” A voice from beside me drew my attention and I looked away from the ceiling above to see a sight that warmed my heart, staving off the terror from before. 

“Cullen.” I sighed back. "This is real, isn't it?" My mind wasn't shrinking from the vision. And he was crying, tears leaking from the creases of his eyes down his cheeks; that could be nothing but truth. Amran never made anyone in my visions weak. I tried to lift my arm to wipe his tears, to tell him not to weep, everything was okay— 

Pain stabbed at me and I gasped. Cullen’s face whitened, chasing away the smile that had been blossoming there. 

“Reina, what’s wrong?” 

“My arm…and my ribs…” I tried to take shallow breaths. 

“They’re broken.” He said softly. “You should not try to move.” 

I closed my eyes, willing to chase away the pain. “You found me.” I finally said after a moment, needing distraction from the pain. My words registered in my own mind and my eyes flew open. “You _found_ me. How?” 

“Derek. And Shizelle.” 

This almost made me sit up. My heart swelled and I felt my eyes tear up. 

“Derek…he’s alive?” 

Cullen nodded, smiling, wiping away the last of his tears that had fallen. 

“He made a remarkable journey here…” 

“Tell me.” I closed my eyes, needing a distraction. “Tell me everything.”


	27. A Joining of Stories

Derek awoke in the snow, fire burning across his chest. 

He opened his eyes, a sense of urgency permeating his being. 

He felt stiff and old. Older than he’d ever felt. 

And _Goddess_ the pain! 

He groaned, the sound loud in the silence of the snowy darkness, and the memory of the attack rushed into him. 

_The knife…Reina yelling to him…falling…two moving shadows…and blackness_

He rolled over in the snow, stirring the few inches that had buried him. The snow where he’d been lying was stained deep crimson with his own blood. The cold must have slowed the bleeding enough, or the cut hadn’t been that deep… 

He did not know or care why he’d lived. He just knew he had. And that he needed to get help. 

He sat up slowly, not wanting to tear open the wound again, which was seeping blood slowly still. He must have been unconscious for a few hours, considering how much snow had fallen. He was lucky he had not bled or frozen to death. 

The bodies of the two guards were scattered in the snow, and Derek’s stomach clenched. Both were clearly dead. He crawled to Eli, closest to him, brushing red snow off the man’s corpse. He tore at the man’s clothes, taking off the thick cloak that wrapped the man’s body, draping it around his own shoulders. He then stripped off Eli’s belt. He did this all while ignoring the screaming pain in his chest and the biting cold on his body. He’d been dressed for the weather, but lying in the snow was dangerous, even at the best of times. 

Eli’s belt in hand, he dragged himself to Mirren’s body. She, too, was lying face-down in the snow, and the whiteness—appearing blue-grey in the moonlight—was stained dark around her body too. Derek stripped her of her cloak as well, pressing this one against his chest hard. He used Eli’s belt, and Mirren’s belt, stripped from her cold corpse, to pull the cloak tight across his chest. 

It would have to hold. 

He rested for a moment, saying a quick prayer to his Goddess, Ljunara. She was watching him this night, and he felt her strength and presence. There was no way he would have survivied, but by her grace and goodwill. He was not lucky…he was being blessed. 

He must have slept or fallen unconscious for a moment, for he awoke leaning against the tree he’d slumped against. Holding his arms tight against his chest, both to keep in warmth and his own blood, he stood, leaning heavily against the tree. 

_Get back to Skyhold_ …he thought. That thought pushed him like a mantra for the next few hours. Their attackers had clearly taken or released their horses, for the beasts were nowhere to be seen. So Derek made his way on foot back to Skyhold, stumbling though the thickly falling snow, praying it would stop and he would not lose his way. 

*** 

“Who is that?” The guard asked his companion, staring out across the bridge into Skyhold, the newly rising sun shining gold and fire on the snowy landscape. So much snow had fallen the day before, continuing well into the night. It would make getting anywhere a burden, here in the mountains. 

“It looks like the Vermahnese…Derek.” The second guard said, then frowned. “But…he’s alone.” 

“He appears injured!” The younger guard, keener eyed, gasped, noting the hunched stance of the man. “I’ll get the Commander.” They separated, the younger recruit rushing down from the battlements, shouting warnings to his brethren on the walls as he sprinted for the Commander, hoping he was in his rooms. The elder guardsman watched as the recruits at the gate ran out to meet the approaching man, stumbling from wounds yet unseen. 

The guards reached Derek as he veered heavily into one of the first towers supporting the bridge out of Skyhold. Derek felt the soldier’s hands catch him, and he looked into the recruit’s face. 

“They took Reina. We need to save her…” then he promptly passed out. 

*** 

“Where?” Cullen stared at the map in the war room. The rest of the Inquisition’s leaders stood around him, solemn, sullen. The guard shook his head, looking helplessly from the Commander to the others. 

“Ser Derek did not say. He just said ‘they took Reina.’” 

Cullen cursed, slamming a fist onto the table. Derek was still unconscious, being treated for the wound on his chest. He was offering no insights. If he did not wake…they might never find her. He did not entertain that thought for longer than was necessary. 

A knock came at the door. All heads turned and a yellow haired woman peeked her head around the door. 

“I heard about Reina. Derek…did not say where she was taken?” Her eyes were wide with terror. 

“Shizelle, we will let you know when we know anything. Until Derek wakes, we need to figure out—” Josephine was the first to speak, preventing Cullen from potentially reducing the girl to tears with his lashing out. 

“He is awake. Dorian sent me.” She squeaked. “Derek needs me. But he sent me to get you all—” 

Cullen was the first to the door, tearing away from the map and almost sending the table flying in his haste to get paste it. The others followed on his heels. 

Derek was set up on the grass just within the gate of Skyhold. They had not wanted to move him. 

The group hurried across the lawn, down the steps to the lower courtyard. Cullen was quick to overtake Shizelle, and was the first to arrive at the Vermahnese’s side. Derek did not turn his head, but his eyes, half-lidded, glanced his way. 

“Cullen. Good.” Derek breathed heavily. “They took Reina…three men. I think…I think one of them is Chiral’s son.” His eyes fluttered. He struggled to keep them open. “He will hurt her.” The panic in his voice was clear, his voice breaking on the work _hurt_. 

Cullen’s heart clenched. “Where did they go, Derek?” 

“Shizelle.” Derek summoned the young woman, much to Cullen’s surprise and irritation. She approached, dropping to his side. He reached for her with icy hands. He spoke rapidly in their own tongue, Shizelle nodding, eyes wide, responding in turn. After a moment, they were both silent, eyes closed, holding tight to one another. Cullen was angered; did they not realize that time was of the essence? 

“Damnit, will someone tell me what’s going on!” Cullen hissed. Shizelle’s eyes opened, but stayed on Derek’s face. 

“Derek just conveyed his information to me.” She stared down at Derek, who had lapsed back into unconsciousness. She stood, allowing the healers to tend to him again. “I saw the path he took here. We can get to the place of the attack and hopefully there is a sign of where the attackers took Reina.” 

“That’s…not a lot to go on.” Josephine said dismally. Shizelle shook her head, frowning darkly. 

“No, it’s not. If I go with them, I may be able to pick up on Reina’s magical trail…if she left one.” 

“You can do that?” The Inquisitor asked. Shizelle shrugged, dropping her hand. 

“Maybe. It depends on a lot of things…” she shrugged again, shaking her head. “It’s a start, though.” 

“What are we waiting for?” Cullen said, voice carrying, standing from Derek’s side. “Let’s go.” 

“The roads are pretty much impassable.” Leliana pointed out. “The snow yesterday—” 

“Damn the snow. I’ll go on foot, if it’s too hard for the horses.” 

“Cullen, this must be planned properly, or we risk losing more people.” Leliana said softly but firmly from beside him. He turned sharply to her. “We can figure out who will go. They can’t have gotten far; the snow would have hindered their movements too, and the snow will not remain for more than a day.” Already, the cold was being blown away by another warm wind from the south. 

“He won’t kill her.” Shizelle said softly. 

Cullen turned on the young girl. 

“She demanded that the Inquisitor kill her, should she ever be dismissed from Skyhold.” Cullen said, panic and fury building in his chest. “I don’t think she was worried about dying, but what would happen if she were taken. I think she’d rather be dead…” 

“I…understand.” Shizelle said, trying to remain cool under the intense ferocity of Cullen’s gaze. “But it means we have more time. Plus, with the roads being as they are, it means that those who took her are probably stuck as well.” 

“Well, I’m coming.” Dorian said from Derek’s side, casting a final glance on the unconscious man before standing. It was clear Derek was no longer in imminent danger; the surgeon had seen to getting him warm and stitching him up. “Reina is a friend.” 

“She’s a friend to many, there will likely be more than a few volunteers.” The Inquisitor said, arms crossed, from behind Cullen. “I’d suggest a smaller team though.” 

“There were only three attackers in Derek’s memory.” Shizelle nodded. “And, knowing how the _Jir’pana_ work, it will likely not be more than that. They would draw too much attention, otherwise.” 

_“Jir’pana?_ ” Leliana asked. 

“Living shadows. Our most elite assassins and spies. One of the few guilds Chiral kept intact after the coup.” 

A new figure joined them, emerging from the upper courtyard with heavy steps. “Heard the news.” Iron Bull’s voice was loud after the hushed conversations. “If we’re going in for Reina, I’m coming too. I want to knock some Vermahnese heads. Make a change from the Venatori.” 

Cullen squared his jaw. The more rational part of his brain was glad that the qunari had volunteered; it would be great to have such a hard-hitting attacker on their team. Plus, this need not be a stealth mission, so they could go in swords swinging. The jealous part of him wanted to keep Iron Bull away from Reina… 

“Seems like a good team.” Shizelle nodded. “So long as there are no more than three attackers. Even if there are only three, they are still Jir’pana. And if Amran is with them…” she swallowed. 

“Who is Amran?” Cullen asked. 

“Chiral’s son. He’s about a thousand times worse than his father.” She closed her eyes, shuddering at her own memories of the fiend. “Why?” Leliana asked. “Amran will hurt Reina in ways that most of us here cannot even begin to fathom. Chiral keeps him on a short leash, but if he’s here…” Her next words came out dark, “he will do unspeakable things.” 

Cullen felt sick. 

“We leave tomorrow.” He said. “At dawn. Snow or no.” 

*** 

They were lucky. 

As the horizon began to light, it was clear that the snow had melted significantly over the previous day. It was still deep and slowed their progress, but at least they could make their way over the roads, their time only slightly diminished. 

Shizelle rode at the head, beside Dorian. Dorian was blasting particularly deep drifts of snow out of their path with his staff. Cullen was glad the mage had come. Less happily, he rode alongside Iron Bull, who was riding one of the exotic nugs. Iron Bull looked strange astride a beast, but Cullen did not pay him much attention. Mostly he focused on what he’d do, what he’d say when they found Reina. He prepared himself, mentally for the state she might be in, if things were as bad as Shizelle had forewarned. Maker, he hoped they weren’t that bad. 

“Listen, Cullen,” Iron Bull began, turning his great horned head to fix his good eye on the man astride the horse beside him, “I know you didn’t want me to come, but I’m glad you let me.” 

“It would be foolish not to. Perhaps the sight of you alone will send Reina’s kidnappers fleeing.” 

“Not sure if that was a dig or…” Iron Bull shrugged, then stared ahead, “I just want you to know she picked you.” 

“What?” Cullen said, puzzled. Iron Bull continued staring ahead. 

“She broke things off because of you. Not just with me, with everyone. And, I mean,” He grinned, “I _did_ encourage it because I’m not a complete asshole, but in the end, she was the one who chose.” Iron Bull turned and smirked at him. “So, not sure what you’ve got that I don’t, besides another eye. I mean, really, I have more scars. And I’ll bet I’ve killed more dragons. _And_ am more experienced in the sack.” He gave a dramatic sigh, shaking his head as if confused. “Love is weird.” 

Somehow, Cullen felt better. It didn’t last. 

“Here!” Shizelle called over her shoulder, making to veer off the path towards a huge tree with swooping branches that came to rest just above Iron Bull’s horns. Dorian melted a path to the tree. By the morning sun, they could see the camp that the travelers had set up, almost three days before. 

And the carnage there. 

“Ah shit.” Iron Bull said, low in his throat. 

There was a lot of blood. Much of it was frozen in the snow but there was a trail leading back the way they had come. 

“Lucky no scavengers came yet.” Cullen said, switching into military mode. “The snow probably kept them off. If it were warmer…the bones would be picked clean, or we’d be fighting wolves to get here.” He dismounted and strode into the camp. It was easy to see where Derek had lain; a pool of frozen blood in a small divot in the snow marked the place where the man had fallen. Mirren and Eli’s bodies were disturbed, and Cullen remembered that Derek had been wearing a lot of extra gear when they’d pulled him in off the bridge. “Smart man.” He remarked, impressed. 

He crouched down, a quick prayer over the bodies and then stood, turning to Shizelle. The girl had dismounted and was standing, knee deep, in the snow, looking out into the trees. 

“Shizelle?” He asked. She turned to him, a look of sorrow on her face. 

“She was here. I can feel her magic…she healed herself.” She pointed to a patch of snow. Cullen went to it, and brushing it aside, found some blood. Shizelle breathed out hard through her nose. “I can feel the direction they started in.” She pointed. “But if they changed direction…I’m not sure how strong the trail will be for me.” She shook her head. “Oh Goddes, Reina.” Her voice was no more than a whisper. Then she visibly steeled herself, straightening, taking a deep breath. 

Cullen pulled a rolled map from his saddle bags, a small map of the area around Skyhold. He’d made a quick sketch to help him remember. He’d spent most of the previous day poring over the chart. As Josephine had said, those who had taken Reina would not have made it far. They would have sought shelter somewhere…he got Reina to point in the direction the trail was leading her and then compared it to his map. 

There were a number of small towers and homesteads in the area. Some, Cullen knew, were occupied, others were not. And the map did not necessarily note all buildings, either. Some could have been missed when the map back in Skyhold had been sketched out, or since built, or deserted and considered unimportant. 

But it was a start. 

*** 

They spent a full day wandering the edges of the Frostbacks, getting almost as far north as Halamshiral. They entered many abandoned buildings to see if Reina was being kept at any of them, but none of them showed any signs of life, recent or otherwise. 

Cullen was growing waspish, short with everyone as the time drew on and the deep drifts of snow began to melt, risking their quarry escaping to the west. 

On the second day they finally had some luck; Shizelle emitted a gasp and straightened in her saddle. She’d been visibly wilting the past few days. Cullen did not know if it was because of the cold, because she was worried about Reina, or because she was expelling a great deal of energy trying to track her friend’s magic. The fact she brightened lifted Cullen’s spirits. 

“You feel something?” He asked rapidly. Shizelle nodded. 

“Someone passed by here. Not Reina, but someone with Vermahnese magic. I can’t pick up what they did but the…pull continues that way.” She pointed south-east, closer to the feet of the mountains. “I don’t think it’s that far…” Shizelle said, brow furrowed. “I feel like they’re close.” 

“Good.” Cullen said succinctly. 

The continued in the direction Shizelle had indicated and eventually found a worn path in the snow leading to a nearby ruin. The ruin was well preserved beneath some great trees and appeared to be sunken into the ground somewhat. It could be no more than two stories high. They were still a fair distance away, but the recent tracks through the snow gave them hope that they were approaching their foes. 

“Wait here.” Cullen said to Shizelle. She shook her head. 

“You don’t know what might be in there…I’m an illusion mage, I may be able to help.” 

“I don’t want to take any unnecessary risks.” Cullen shook his head back. Shizelle sighed. 

“I can make us invisible on our way in. Trust me, you’ll need me.” 

“I don’t want to have to watch out for you.” 

“I’ll keep myself out of the way, and I will stay invisible.” Shizelle countered. “You do not know what these Vermahnese may have, as powers.” 

“I think it’s a good idea.” Dorian said, interrupting before Cullen could get a word out. “We _don’t_ know what to expect. A moment’s warning could spell a disadvantage to them.” 

“ _Fine_.” Cullen finally gave in to the brow beating. “But you stay behind. And you stay out of sight.” 

Shizelle nodded hurriedly, to show she understood and complied. 

They dismounted, tying their horses to some trees a short distance from the keep. They drew their weapons and Shizelle took some steadying breaths, muttering what sounded like a quick prayer to her goddess under her breath. Cullen did not understand it, but he felt it was for the safety of the entire company. 

They crept through the trees, Shizelle walking behind, breathing steadily, eyes fixed ahead of them. They emerged from the trees bordering the ruin and continued. Cullen had no idea if Shizelle’s magic was working, but he trusted it was. 

They approached the doors which were set a few steps into the ground. 

Cullen took a deep breath, nodded to everyone around him, and pushed the doors open. 

No one was in the first room, but the doors creaked on their hinges, echoing through the ruin. The room they entered was a large chamber, with stairs going to deeper levels. The building itself might only be two stories high, but it looked like it went down at least that many levels, as well. 

Shizelle winked out of sight, invisible to those around her. The trio rushed forward, deeper into the ruins, and could hear noises below them; the voices were speaking Vermahnese but it seemed that at least one of them was coming to investigate the noise of the door. 

The trio emerged from the stairs, coming face to face with one of the three men. He was tall, well-muscled, his shirt stained with blood. His hair was long and a deep blue. He was the first to die, hand on the hilt of a dagger, as Cullen thrust his sword into the man’s stomach, twisting it with a fierce anger. 

Behind him were two other men, both having just turned away from a set of double doors on the far side of the room, locking the door. One of the men had slightly paler blue hair and equally light eyes, piercing in the darkness. The last man had pale red hair, but not the orange-red that one saw here. It was a true red, the colour of a jewel, but paler. His eyes were dark. 

“Amran.” The voice was quiet behind him, but he could hear the terror in Shizelle’s voice. “Red hair. Do _not_ let him touch you.” Her voice shook with the hushed warning. 

Cullen nodded, hoping that the others had heard. They rushed forward but the two other men dropped to crouches, recovering quickly from their initial surprise. Dorian shot a flare towards the red-haired man, but he leaped aside of the flame. 

“Shit, they’re fast!” Iron Bull said, charging towards the man nearest him, with the blue hair. He swung his axe, but again, the Vermahnese assassin slipped away. 

Cullen was focused on the red-haired man. Dorian was casting targeted spells in the close quarters, not wanting to hit either of the warriors rushing in to fight the assassins. Iron Bull was right, though, they _were_ fast! Amran dodged aside as Cullen closed the space between them, pulling a blade from the inside of his coat and stabbing at the Commander. 

They launched into an intense fury of blows, Cullen parrying the Vermahnese man’s quick attacks with his sword, trying to drive the man further back into the room. Amran nicked him on the arm, his long blade slipping between the metal plates of Cullen’s armour. This only served to infuriate Cullen and he upped the ferocity of his attacks. 

Iron Bull had managed to hit his foe a few times, staggering him, sending him reeling, and not reacting as quickly. Iron Bull swung his axe towards the man’s head, a blow that would rend the man’s head from his shoulders, but the man dropped at the last possible second, lunging forward at Iron Bull’s unprotected side with his blade. Iron Bull knew he wouldn’t be able to move aside in time, his momentum still following his axe— _stupid, to overcommit, but it had been the perfect opportunity for the killing blow_ —and he braced for the blade. Instead, his attacker was blown away by a particularly ferocious fire ball, which drove him back, smashing against the wall, where he stirred only a little. His head had made an ominous _thunk_ when it had hit the stone. Iron Bull nodded to Dorian, who shrugged. 

Cullen sensed the sudden stilling of movement beside him and knew that Iron Bull had defeated his foe. Amran seemed to realize he was getting more and more dangerously outnumbered and made one last lunge toward Cullen. This time, he lunged with both knife and bare hand. Cullen blocked the dagger, using his own free hand to grip the other man’s wrist, forcing him to drop the knife. But Amran’s hand locked around Cullen’s neck. He did not assert force, however. He simply _showed_ Cullen. 

Cullen was thrown into a whirlwind of thoughts; he _was_ Amran, raping Reina as her screams burned rawly against her throat, high pitched and terrified in his ear. He was Amran as the man kicked the Cort’esa, grinning with sick delight as she curled over herself on the floor…as he broke her fingers, her arm…her screams were unending in Cullen’s mind, driving him to madness; he knew this was _real_ , he could feel Amran’s immense pleasure behind the thoughts. 

Then Amran’s hand slackened around Cullen’s throat and he could see again. The red-haired man’s arms dropped, and he teetered, stumbling back against the door behind him heavily, rattling it. He fell, and Shizelle dissolved into sight, holding a bloodstained dagger she had clearly taken from the first dead man. She dropped the knife, staring down at her hands with eyes wide as the moon. She looked from the bloodstained hands to Cullen. 

“I told you not to let him touch you.” She said in a whisper. She turned to the door that Amran had fallen against. “Chiral will not be happy his son is dead.” She walked to and stood over the dead man, pausing to look at him for a moment, tears forming in her eyes. Then she swung a foot back and kicked his corpse, hissing words at him in Vermahnese as she continued her assault. Tears were now pouring down her face. 

“Bull—” 

“Got her.” The qunari said, striding across the room and gently—somehow the great man still knew extreme gentleness—leading her by the arm to one of the chairs in the room, turning her away from the carnage in the room, patting her head and shoulders and telling her she did a great job. 

Cullen turned to face the locked double doors in front of him. There was a trail of blood leading into the room, as if someone had been dragged across the floor, bleeding, recently. He did not want to think about who that was, though he knew there was no one else it could be. 

He took the key from where it had been dropped on the floor when the assault had begun and slid it into the keyhole. He threw open the door and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the near complete darkness. The room was completely bare, nothing in it but some empty chains and a hook hanging from the wall… 

And Reina. 

Cullen’s heart seized. He frozen for a moment, thinking her dead but then saw the thin beam of light from behind him reflecting off the glossy slits of her eyes. She murmured something and coughed blood; it made a wet noise in the silence of the room, splattering on the cold stones beside her limp head. 

“Reina.” Cullen’s voice came out choked with emotion, with shock. He had in no way been prepared for this…he’d seen people tortured before, sure, but this was Reina…sweet, kind Reina who was loving and passionate and gentle. She did not deserve this. No one deserved this. Cullen threw himself across the floor to her. “Oh Maker. No, _no!_ ” 

“It’s over, Amran. I know…it’s not him.” Her breath came out a gurgling sigh, her eyes closing. “Cullen…doesn’t care.” The words stabbed him like a blade, deeper than Amran would have struck. 

“Reina, it’s me.” He had to make her know! To make her see it was him, not a trick. She was safe now…though how she could live with that much blood lost, that palour, so many broken bones…and that was just what he could see. “It’s not…a trick. I’m here, I care, I…” 

“Go to hell, Amran.” Her words came out on her last breath, her body stilling. 

“Reina?” Cullen panicked. “Reina!” He shouted. Was she dead? She didn’t appear to be breathing. 

“Dorian!” Cullen shouted. The mage was right behind him. He’d been standing just within the door, shocked at the sight of the woman on the floor. “Where are the potions?” 

“They won’t fix all this—” 

“Damnit, I know!” Cullen turned to stare at the mage over his shoulder. Dorian almost stepped back; the pain in the man’s eyes was palpable. If Reina died…he would become unhinged. Dorian reached for the bottles he had brought handing them over to Cullen. 

Cullen unstoppered the bottle with a quick movement, discarding the cork into the darkness. Her reached for Reina’s lips, cracked and bloody and swollen and split, and poured the contents down her throat. 

“She’s going to choke!” Dorian protested. Cullen shook his head, slipping arms behind Reina’s battered body to lift her head slightly, to let the potion trickle down her throat. Her throat reflexively swallowed, but she did not wake. But at least Cullen could see the rise and fall of her chest… 

“We need to get her back to Skyhold. Immediately.”


	28. Nightmares and New Beginnings

When Cullen finished the story, I had tears in my eyes. They were transfixed on his face though; that beautiful face that, through the telling of the story, had shown the fear and terror he had experienced. I’d never seen his face display such emotion. 

“I’m…sorry I thought you weren’t real.” I said. “I had given up.” I smiled gently, my face aching. “I still don’t know if I believe this is real. That Amran is dead, that the pain is behind me.” I squeezed my eyes close, fighting off the visions that threatened to overtake my happy peace. “I can’t get the memory out of my brain. And it still hurts to breath.” 

Cullen’s hand touched mine. 

“I would do _anything_ to take away your pain.” He said ardently, hand resting gentle on mine, his hand cool against my hot skin. 

I was growing tired again. “I still can’t believe you found me.” I began to cry in earnest now, sobs wracking my body, which sent stabbing pain through me. Cullen half-stood from his chair. 

“Reina, shh…it’s alright.” He looked helpless, hands hovering over me, not sure what to do, how to help the unseen demons that menaced me. 

“Cullen…” I wheezed, agony and emotion catching my voice, “I wanted to _die_. I prayed that they might kill me.” 

He had no response to that. His other hand took mine. All I wanted was to be held but I could not be moved without excruciating pain. I used my good arm to bring his hand up to my cheek, breathing in his scent, the feel of his rough hands comforting on my cheek, my tears spilling onto his skin. 

*** 

When I awoke from a fitful sleep, it was dark. The fire had died, and the room was cold. I opened my mouth in a voiceless scream; I was back in the cell? Had it all just been an elaborate trick? 

_No…_ my mind forced me to register the bed beneath me, the memories from before, _this is real._

I took some deep, quavering, painful breaths. My mind was registering this was real, but I still shook with terror, the thought that this could all be taken away. I feared that at any moment, Amran would burst through my door and whisk me away. I blinked away the tears. _Stop. Focus on something else._

I felt like my magic stores were strong enough; I put my good hand on my ribs, pressing hard enough to hurt, sensing the ribs that were broken. I poured my energy into them, feeling them knit back together, my breath hissing out between my teeth in a high-pitched whine. I’d never had to mend my own bones before; when I’d broken bones as a child, I’d not known how to, yet. And even now, I didn’t like using magic on trivial wounds. But my ribs…those were excruciating. 

I took a long, deep breaths, reveling in the feeling of unimpeded breathing. I still felt some tenderness as I breathed. I’d probably sustained some internal bleeding or bruising earlier. But apparently my body had tried to heal itself. I wondered if that had ever happened before? I’d never heard of it. I’d have to ask Derek. I still could not believe he was alive. 

I sat up. Even with my ribs healed, I winced in pain as I jostled other bruised and battered parts of my body. I flipped back my covers, wanting to assess my battered body, but it was still too dark. I’d need to light a fire or a candle. I dragged my legs out of bed, my right leg stiff with a splint. I leaned down to hold my leg with my good hand again—a little more healing would go a long way—and grunted as the bones knit back together, gritting my teeth. I immediately regret that, as my jaw was also very sore. 

I undid the splint, awkwardly, letting it fall to the floor with a _thump._ Then I hobbled to the hearth beside my bed. I put a few more logs on the embers of the old fire, blowing on the brightly glowing coals to catch the dry wood. The heat near my face…I winced and recoiled, the memory of Amran, too close to my face, a piece of bent metal glowing, too hot, searing my skin. 

I shrunk away from the fire as the logs caught, gagging as the smell of my own burnt skin took hold in my mind. I wrapped my good arm around me for a moment, trying to chase off the memories, frozen in the horror that was my memory, yet again. 

After a moment, the shaking that had taken hold of me subsided, leaving my body aching. I remembered why I’d wanted light; I wanted to assess the damage. My legs were still heavily bandaged, even without the splint. I began to peel off bandages, revealing the multi-coloured skin below. The bruises, cuts and burns I had sustained stood out, stark against my white skin, mottling me to many shades of reds, browns, blues, purples, yellows. I almost laughed; I was used to only my _hair_ being purple! I choked down the laugh, knowing it was just a sign of how distressed I was that I was about to dissolve into hysterics. 

I did the same assessment on my arms, stripping myself of bandages. I had to leave my good arm bandaged, as I couldn’t manage to get my broken arm to strip away the bandages. And I was magically too drained to try to heal anything more. 

I stared down at the splotches and wounds covering me. I felt detached, like I was looking at someone else’s arms, someone else’s legs. I stood from the floor, stripping off the nightgown I was wearing. My body beneath was much the same as my legs and arms. I could only imagine what my back looked like. I could easily recall facing against the wall as instruments were taken to the expanse of skin there. 

The door opened behind me and I turned, still in a strange haze of distance from myself. 

Cullen entered, then froze when he saw me. 

“Oh!” He averted his eyes, and I could see the darkening of his cheeks from my spot near the fire. “Why are you out of bed? I just stepped out for a moment.” 

“I needed to stand.” I said. My voice felt…different. Wrong. Too calm. I bent down to pick up my clothes, pulling it over my head with difficulty. “You can open your eyes.” I said shuffling back over to the bed. 

Cullen looked to me. “Sorry, I didn’t expect—” 

I shook my head, climbing onto the mattress. “Don’t worry. It’s not like you haven’t seen me before.” 

He came to my side, sitting on the edge of the bed. I tucked my feet up to my chest, back into the same position I’d been in by the fire. 

“Sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up.” He said gently, somewhat guiltily. I smiled. 

“It’s okay. I…I don’t think I’ve fully recovered from the shock of being safe.” I smiled sadly at him, and he met my gaze, brow furrowing. 

“I’m just glad you _are_ safe. You had me very worried.” His last word was almost cut off and he had to swallow the emotion that lodged in his throat. I watched him, absorbing the realness of his face. The emotions he held there, the way he looked at me with such intensity…it was not something Amran had been able to mimic perfectly. His ‘Cullen’ had been nothing but a cheap imitation. ““You went through something similar, though.” I supplied after a moment of pause. “How did you…how long did it take?” 

Cullen looked away, towards the fire, breathing out a sigh through his nose. The firelight threw his face into relief, making me see wrinkles around his eyes that I’d never noticed before. Had I not been paying attention? Or was it just this light? Or—a thrill of guilt and pleasure—was it because of his affection for me? 

“I still remember it, sometimes. It was especially bad when I was going through lyrium withdrawals.” He said, as though admitting a weakness. “What I went through does not compare to what you…” he trailed off. “What Amran,” he practically sneered the name, like he was being forced to say it, “what he showed me, I cannot begin to fathom. And that was such a small part of your time there.” He met my eyes again and his brow was knit in pain. “Knowing what happened to you makes me wish I could bring that… _bastard_ back to life just so I can give him a more painful death.” 

I let out a shaky laugh. 

“While I’m touched, truly…there’s been enough suffering because of Chiral.” I closed my eyes, breathing steadily, ignoring the constant ache of my body. “Cullen?” I asked, by way of distraction. 

“Yes? 

“Why did you come for me?” 

He was quiet and I wondered if he was going to answer, or if he’d even heard me. After a moment, he shifted on the bed, closer to me. He let out a breath. 

“I…I thought it was obvious.” 

Something in his voice made me open my eyes and stare into his face. He was looking at me strangely, as if he were hoping for something. I shook my head, brow furrowed. 

“I thought…you hated me. Because of the mage thing.” 

“I could never hate you.” He said softly, amber eyes boring into mine with a gaze intense, as if the harder he stared at me, the more I’d come to understand his words. “I love you, Reina.” 

“But—” I registered the words, but I was confused. 

“I know.” He shook his head, looking down at his hands. “I was horrid to you. It’s something I regret immensely.” 

“What changed?” 

He stood from the bed and walked to the fire, adding another log. I watched him, eyes hungry for answers. I had pined after him, lost him and tried—miserably—to get over him. What had he gone through? 

“Well, for one thing, Derek spoke to me.” 

This made me laugh. A dry chuckle, to be sure. “And what did Derek say?” 

“He’s not one to mince words.” Cullen said grimly, staring into the flames. “He told me I was being a fool and that my own prejudice was getting in the way of having the best thing I’ve ever known. He said it a lot more poetically, though.” He smiled, turning his head slightly, hair catching the light. “I had to chew on that for a while, think about it. I tried to talk to you at the ball but you…rightfully shut me down.” He shook his head, leaning a palm against the brick over the hearth. “I deserved that. For how I treated you.” He frowned. “But then you were gone. I was nervous when you were away. And then when I found out you’d been taken…” He shook his head, face falling. “I thought I’d never see you again. I didn’t want to admit it, but I thought you’d be spirited away, back to your land. I spent three days in torment. All I could do was look for you, and hope I found you before it was too late.” He turned to me, slowly approaching. “I understand if you don’t feel the same way. After all—” 

“Cullen.” I cut him off, turning to stand, to meet him. I slid out of the bed and took a few tentative steps towards him. “Cullen, I love you. How could I not?” 

I brought my lips to his then in a tender kiss that had me seeing stars. My heart swelled with the _rightness_ of it all. This was how things were supposed to be. I was home. I was safe. 

A small feeling of dark apprehension prickled at the back of my mind, but I dismissed it, instead slipping my arms against Cullen’s chest, one still bandaged and splinted against me. His hands went around my waist. I gripped his shirt, pulling him closer. He was not in his full armor and the shirt he was wearing was thin. I could feel his warmth through the cloth and I liked it. 

“I just want to feel you.” I murmured, drawing away from the kiss, and burying my face into his chest. “I want to know this is real.” 

“It’s real, Reina.” He kissed my forehead, then pulled away with a start. “Maker’s breath, you’re burning up!” He released my elbows, bringing a hand to my forehead. He shook his head, dropping his hand. 

“I need some air.” I murmured, eyes feeling heavy. Now that he mentioned it…I was feeling poorly. I was no longer in as much pain, now that my leg and ribs were healed, but I suspected he was right, and I was probably fighting off some kind of infection. 

Cullen led me outside, half carrying me. I leaned against the half-wall overlooking the courtyard, taking some deep breaths. 

“Is this something you can heal?” Cullen asked tentatively. I sat down, pressing my hot face against the cool stones of the wall. He crouched beside me, pushing my dank, tangled hair from my face where it threatened to stick. 

“No.” I shook my head. “Not right now. I used a lot of my stored energy healing my ribs and my leg.” I frowned. “And…my body seemed to have healed itself a great deal, drawing upon my magic, while I was unconscious. So, I don’t know why I had so much mana still stored…” 

“Shizelle and Derek.” Cullen said by way of explanation. “They spent the past week by your bedside. We took turns watching you. They weren’t here when you awoke simply because I enlisted Dorian to help distract Derek and give him a night off. And Shizelle…I just carried her to her room, once she’d fallen asleep.” He smiled softly. “Many others stopped by as well, to offer to stand watch.” The outpouring of offers from those in Skyhold to do whatever was needed or to get whatever was necessary to wake the Cort’esa had been numerous. 

“I’m so lucky to have so many people who care about me.” I said, eyes growing watery. I couldn’t imagine it had been easy to get either of them to leave my side. And while I was touched, I was also glad Cullen was the one at my side now. I reached for him, then, taking his hand in mine. “I’m so lucky I have you.” 

“I won’t let you go again.” He said fiercely, almost more to himself than anything. Then he brought my hand to his lips, wary of my splinted fingers, kissing the inside of my wrist. “I swear it.” He helped me to my feet and again, I leaned heavily on him, glad of the support. He led me back to my room. I was tired again. 

“I should speak to…someone in the morning about bringing down this fever. But for now I just need to sleep.” I noted the bags under Cullen’s eyes, and brought a hand to his cheek as he leaned over me in the bed. “You need some sleep too. I know you like to make people think you are infallible—” he scoffed at this, “but you are still human.” 

“You’re one to talk.” He settled on the bed beside me again as I relaxed tenderly into the pillow. “You woke up less than an hour ago and here you’ve been healing yourself and starting fires.” I laughed at that. 

“I’ve not been starting fires.” I said drowsily. “I started _a_ fire.” 

“Still, you should have stayed in bed. I could have made the fire for you.” 

“You weren’t here.” I pouted, sliding down in the bed, rolling onto my side to face him. 

“I know.” He winced, and I regretted my words, even said in jest. “I’m sorry. I had to…relieve myself.” 

This reminded me that, along with sleep, there were other necessary things my body needed. I was incredibly thirsty, and hungry. But for now, I really did need to sleep. Cullen yawned, which set me off. 

“I should let you sleep. Now that there’s no more immediate danger…” Cullen went to stand but my good arm darted out, grabbing his hand, tugging him back. 

“Stay with me?” it was meant as a question, or even a request, but it came out almost pleading. I dropped my hand. “Un-unless you don’t want to.” 

“I told you.” Cullen said, “so long as you wish it, I’m not leaving you again.” 

He doused the fire and stripped down to his smallclothes, folding his shirt and pants so neatly and placing them on the chair he’d vacated beside my bed. I scooted across the mattress slowly so as not to jostle my wounds, allowing him room beside me. 

I curled instinctively into his arms, burying my face in his chest. His arms went around me, delicately, trying not to jostle me. I inhaled his scent deep, the hairs on his chest tickling my nose. Before I drifted off, I murmured against his skin. 

“What?” He asked, also drifting off. I spoke louder. 

“Please…stay with me until I wake.” 

He kissed the top of my head. 

“I promise.” 

*** 

_I was blind again. I had been moved from my cell, to another room. A room with a fire. I could feel its heat; I could not have been placed more than a few feet away. My hands were roughly tied to the chair I was on and I struggled, cursing my captors. My struggle was met with a blow. Blinded as I was, I could not see who had struck me as my head rocked to the side, my cheek hot._

_I heard a chair pulled across the floor to me, cracking painfully into my knees._

_My demands, my cries of “why” were not met with answers—not that they ever were—as Amran simply laughed at my terror._

_When the blindness suddenly lifted, I almost breathed a sigh of relief. Until I saw the red-hot metal before me, only inches from my face. I whimpered, heart thudding painfully in my chest._

_“Ah, that’s better.” Amran cooed. “When you return to Vermahna as my wife, you will be silent. Or you will regret it.” He fisted his hand in my hair, yanking my head back painfully, the other still holding the hot poker before my face. “Do you understand?”_

_I couldn’t nod with his had in my hair, so I could only whisper “yes.”_

_“Yes what?”_

_“I-I will be silent.” My voice was choked._

_“Very good. Still, I don’t think you’ll really understand how serious I am unless I show you.” He jammed the poker down into my bare leg. A scream tore from my throat and his hand tightened in my hair. Hot tears poured from my eyes, the smell of my own burning flesh in my nostrils…_

I awoke screaming, clutching at my leg, which was burning. All of me was burning! I was on fire, too hot, stabbed with a thousand burning pokers. 

Cullen shot up beside me, eyes wide, sleep chased away by panic. 

“Reina, what is it?” He asked, looking around. Realizing we were still alone, he pulled me into his arms. “Reina…it was a nightmare. You’re safe now. He can never hurt you again.” 

I curled against him, and within seconds my face was wet with the tears I was trying to stave off. 

“Cullen…I’m scared I’ll never be free of him.” I choked out. 

“He’s dead, Reina. I killed him.” 

“I know.” I pressed my eyes shut, squeezing out fresh tears, hoping to clear the images from my mind. “I know that. But what he did…I’m terrified to close my eyes. I know, I _know_ it’s over but…when I close my eyes, my dreams are so real. I close my eyes and…he’s there.” I shuddered. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be rid of him.” 

“You will.” Cullen said, with certainty. “It will take time, but you will heal. You are the strongest person I know. And I’ll do whatever it takes to remind you that he’s dead and you are here, safe, with me.” He sounded resigned but sure, speaking from experience. 

I knew I would not get back to sleep, plagued as I was by nightmares. It had to be near dawn now. Cullen held me, his one hand tracing small circles on my skin. A though struck me. 

“I remember humming. When I first awoke. Was that you?” 

His uncomfortable chuckle rumbled through his chest, vibrating me. “Yes. I’m surprised you heard that.” 

“It was like I was in a different world. But I wanted to listen to that song forever. What was it?” 

“A lullabye from my youth. One of the few I remember.” 

“Sing it to me?” I asked. “Please?” 

He took a breath, hesitating, and then launched into the song. His voice rumbled through his chest, much as his chuckle had, making me feel the vibrations through his skin. His voice was beautiful and strong as he sang me the lullaby. When he was done, I smiled into his chest, unseen by his eyes. 

“That was beautiful. Did they also teach you to sing, in your templar training?” 

“No. That was something I picked up from my mother.” Cullen replied. 

“I wish I could sing. They tried to teach me, but I sound like a dying…” I searched for a comparative term, “mabari.” 

“But you can dance like the wind so at least you have something.” He replied. 

“I didn’t think you’d seen the dance, the night of the party.” I said, turning my face to look at him. He tilted his head toward me, in turn. 

“I hung mostly to the shadows. When it became clear you were avoiding me…I didn’t want to distract you or detract from your night.” 

“Sorry about that.” I said, somewhat abashed. 

“I deserved it.” He repeated the words from the previous night. He truly believed it. 

We lapsed into silence and the light filtering in through the cracks around my door told us a new day was dawning. The light, the new day, being wrapped in Cullen’s arms…it began to chase away the last of the nightmare that I’d had. I knew it would take time to be completely free of the memories but at least Cullen was at my side to help.


	29. Epilogue

”Andraste have mercy on me.” Cullen’s words were loud enough to be heard by those gathered in the garden surrounding the small stone gazebo and eyes turned to see what had drawn the prayer from him. 

I walked toward the gazebo, arm in arm with Derek, who was smiling at the faces turned towards us. He leaned his head in to mine as a couple chuckles arose from the small crowd, in delayed reaction to Cullen’s words. 

“I think he means me.” He murmured. I cast him a sideways look. 

“Yes, because clearly, of the two of us, _you_ are more beautiful.” I replied, voice heavy with sarcasm. Derek smirked, straightening. 

He _did_ look incredible, but it was not him that Cullen was staring at, mouth slightly agape. I had seen my reflection as I’d prepared for the wedding and I knew I looked phenomenal. The white corset with red embroidery I wore was pushing my breasts up to unfathomable heights. A plain white skirt hung from my hips, the stiff fabric hardly moving as I walked, making me appear as if I was gliding. A gold band was clasped around my neck and a sheer red cape hung from it, draping over my shoulders and arms. Shizelle had helped me arrange some of the brightest flowers from the garden into a sort of crown. 

It had been just over a month since my return to Skyhold and while not all my wounds were healed, I’d been slathering my bruises and scars with my poultices and seeking the healers of the camp to help me when I could not heal myself. I wanted to look perfect on my wedding day; a reasonable desire. 

We reached the gazebo and I turned to Derek, kissing him gently on each cheek before turning to mount the couple steps that led me to my future husband. 

Mother Giselle stood beside him, positively beaming. She took my hand and placed it on Cullen’s as I reached the pair. I stared up into Cullen’s face. 

“Hello.” He said, smiling. 

“Hello to you, too.” I replied. “You look incredible.” He did; he was wearing the same dark cape and tailed-jacket that he’d worn to the gala in Skyhold, only the month before. 

“Clearly you haven’t seen yourself.” He replied with a dry chuckle. 

Mother Giselle cleared her throat and began to speak. I didn’t particularly care the words, whether they were of my faith or not. I knew that Solmera and Ljunara were already looking down and blessing this marriage. It was clear by the fact that both were visible in the sky, spherical bodies in the heavens looking down upon us. 

“Cullen Rutherford, do you so swear to love this woman?” 

“I, Cullen Rutherford, swear unto the Maker and the Holy Andraste to love this woman the rest of my days,” he continued, Mother Giselle pausing as we had discussed, “so long as the sun shines and the moon glows.” It had been his idea to incorporate a bit of my own faith into the ceremony. 

“And do you, Reina Meriadonna, so swear to love this man?” 

“Before the eyes of Solmera, Ljunara and the Maker, I, Reina Meriadonna, swear to love this man as long as we both do live, so long as the sun shines and the moon glows.” 

“Then before the eyes of the Maker, Andraste, and those gathered here today, I do pronounce you wed.” Giselle lifted her arms and I practically threw myself into Cullen’s arms, causing our witnesses to laugh and clap. 

“And now, we drink!” Iron Bull boomed. I laughed, forehead still pressed against Cullen’s as the ceremony ended and we traipsed back through the garden, to the Herald’s Rest, where a party was underway, to celebrate us. I knew I’d have to enjoy the time; the Inquisitor had announced, only days before, that the final assault on Corypheus was set and all of Skyhold would be emptied in but a few days. I did not want to waste a single one of those days. 

*** 

Cullen had insisted I come with them to the encampment. He did not want to be apart from me again, and, I would be lying if I said that I hadn’t wanted to be near him as well. The thought of being left in Skyhold with the few soldiers still too weak for duty, and the others who would not fight, was not a prospect I looked forward to. So I’d packed my bags with him and gone to the final battle of the Inquisition. Obviously, Cullen had kept me far, far away from the fighting. I tended to the wounded, Shizelle at my side. She was settling into her own as the only Cort’esa of the Inquisition, beloved and respected as I was. I still met with patrons for games, drinks, and the like, but I had made my choice to shelve the more physical parts of my old life. Cullen had never asked me, but I knew it meant a lot to him. And besides, I didn’t want anyone but him in my bed. 

I’d been distracted the entire battle, Shizelle frequently having to draw me back to the task at hand, which mostly consisted of healing soldiers who’d been sent back, aiding the healers of the camp. When Cullen had finally appeared, I’d nearly cried with relief. He’d run to me, taking me into his arms, spinning me around. 

“It’s over!” He was so overjoyed he kissed me fiercely, before the entire camp of wounded and recovering soldiers. He was not one for public displays of affection, so I knew this was important. I kissed him back enthusiastically. 

And then we were back at Skyhold. Figuring out our next steps. We knew we could not continue to live in Skyhold forever. It was a fortress that had served its purpose. Still, that would wait while the last of Inquisition matters were taken care of. 

I was waiting for Cullen to return from a small trip to Halamshiral for some supplies needed. He’d been requested to go by the Inquisitor. I think a part of him was excited to be out of Skyhold after having been consumed by the stress of commanding the Inquisition’s forces the past year. I knew that I had only been there for a few months and I felt the same. And I had not heavily engaged myself in the whole ordeal. 

I stood from my seat in the garden, closing the latest chapter of _Hard in Hightown_. I had finally finished it, having had taken a break for a while. I made my way across the garden slowly, revelling in the smells and sounds of the plants and the bees buzzing around them. Passing into the main hall, I sought out Varric, who was standing by the fire, as he was wont to do. 

“Madam Curly.” He said, offering a bow. I rolled my eyes. 

“What, I get married and lose my individuality?” This made Varric laugh and he cleared his throat. 

“Apologies, Pearl. I’ll go back to your personalized nickname.” He perched on the armrest of one of the chairs. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Actually, the pleasure was mine.” I held up his book. He raised an eyebrow. “I just finished. It was really good!” 

“I’m surprised you liked it.” Varric admitted. “I took you for a much more serious reader.” 

“I will read anything put in front of me.” 

“Good to know.” He said, nodding. “I’m always looking for critical readers of my upcoming works—” 

“Really?” I gushed. “I would be honoured if you’d consider me. And I wouldn’t tell a soul.” 

Varric laughed. “Your secrecy would be appreciated. I’ll keep you in mind, next time I’m writing.” He looked toward the end of the throne room, eyes distant. “I may have some ideas for a new book.” 

I left him, going out the front doors and down to the courtyard. I wanted to be at the gate to greet Cullen when he returned… 

I made my way up to our shared room and put my book on the shelves there. Then, returning to the battlements, I stared out across the vast expanse of scenery ahead of me. 

“How are you doing, Lady Rutherford?” I turned to see Derek, climbing the stairs behind me. I smiled. 

“I haven’t seen you in a while.” I said. He came up to me, and I leaned against him, grateful for his warmth on the wall as the wind whipped around us. 

“I’ve been helping the Inquisitor with some things.” He said, elusively. I frowned at him and he avoided my look. 

“Fine, keep your secrets.” I shook my head, looking back over the frozen landscape. I saw movement in the distant trees, and men on horses with wagons appeared. I could not actually see from here, but I imagined that the one in the lead was glowing with a gold halo, his curly hair ruffled by the rippling breeze. 

“You’ll hear eventually.” Derek said with a shrug. I elbowed him. 

“I don’t _like_ waiting. You know this.” This made him laugh. 

“Oh, I know, you are as impatient as your father was.” He shook his head. 

We stared out at the approaching train as it carried on across the road and up to the bridge into Skyhold. A small thrill went through me as I realised that I had indeed been correct and the man at the front _did_ have a gold halo. I suspected he could see me by now, standing out stark against the overcast sky by my purple hair whipping around me. I raised my arm, giving a wave and he responded. 

I watched as they came closer, then went down the stairs to the gate to meet them as they entered. I was reaching the front gate just as Cullen arrived. He dismounted, passing his reins to the soldier dismounting beside him. I ran into his arms. 

“I missed you.” He spoke his words into my hair, and I into his chest, and we both laughed. 

“Disgusting.” Derek said, leaning against the wall. “You two are just…disgusting.” 

“Oh, shut it.” I stuck out my tongue at him. “If Curtis were here…” Curtis had arrived just before the gala, a Fereldan merchant who had come to Skyhold to supply Shizelle and myself with fabric. And then he’d stayed to make sure that everyone was properly clothed. And _then_ he’d met Derek and had decided never to leave. 

“Speaking of…” Derek pushed off the wall. “He _also_ should be getting back today.” Curtis had left a few days ago to go see his children from his previous partnership. It was a long story, but the short version was that he’d had a husband and they’d adopted his sister’s children when she’d died in the Blight. Then Curtis’ husband had died in an attack. He and Derek were similar in their pasts, tragedy taking those they loved, but they were bonding over it, I suspected. Curtis was planning on bringing his adopted children—both very much grown—to meet Derek. 

I waved Derek off and Cullen took my other hand. 

“I have to go see the Inquisitor and Leliana right away.” He said apologetically. “But before I do…” He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small box, wrapped with a bow. I looked at him, bemused. 

“Is _that_ why you wanted to go to Halamshiral? To get me a present?” 

He blushed. “Yes…now, open it.” He pressed the box into my hands. 

I untied the ribbon and pried open the box. The inside was a plush velvet, and nestled on the velvet was a beautiful necklace, a green stone the size of my thumbnail enclosed in a beautiful setting of smaller white stones. I let out a gasp. 

“Goddess, Cullen! The stone is massive.” 

He took the necklace from the box and unclasped it, circling around behind me. I pulled my hair up and aside so he could easier get the necklace around my neck. It settled just above the swell of my breasts. I dropped my hair and turned to him. 

“It’s beautiful! But it must have cost a small fortune!” I shook my head. 

“Oh, it did.” Cullen grimaced. “But I saw it and it reminded me of you. The green matches your eyes.” He brushed my cheek. “Now, I really do need to go see the Inquisitor.” 

He kissed me once, a quick press of our lips, and then was off into the main keep. I watched him go and then took the necklace in my hands, turning it so it caught the mid-afternoon light. It was beautiful and did match my eyes, the dark green set off by the paleness of the stones set around it. 

I made my way to the stables, making sure the horses were put away as necessary. I smiled to Rainier, who was whittling. I remembered he’d he’d made a small griffon statue a few months back…I wondered if he could make a rocking horse version for a child. My hand instinctively went to my belly, and I looked up to the keep. Cullen hopefully would not take long. I was dying to tell him our news. 

The horses tended to, I returned to our rooms, and sat myself at Cullen’s desk, pulling one of the books from a nearby shelf. I had taken to keeping my own literature in his office, since I spent a great deal more of my time there now. I tucked my feet up under me. 

Cullen did not come back until the sun was setting. Something must have happened, for him to be taking so long…I hoped it was nothing serious. 

As this worry furrowed my brow, the door opened and my husband appeared. He was grinning. 

“Sorry I took so long. I…there were some very urgent matters to be discussed.” He said, pulling off his gloves and mantle. I stood, going to him, face still set in a worried look. 

“Nothing too serious, I hope.” 

“Oh, some very serious matters. But good serious.” Wearing his casual clothes, he turned to me, still grinning. “I have news for you.” 

“What a coincidence, I do too.” 

“You should go first.” He said, giving my hands a squeeze. “Mine is _huge_.” 

“Mine is also very big news.” I took a deep breath. “But you told me to go first, so here it is.” I swallowed. “I’m pregnant.” 

Cullen’s face froze, his grin turning into a look of surprise. But then the grin was back, his hands gripping mine tightly. “Truly? You are certain?” His voice was tight with emotion, catching with his words. I nodded, eyes pooling with tears. He laughed, a surprised, breathless laugh, his eyes also shining bright with wetness. “Maker, how did that—” 

“Well, after we had that long chat about children…I removed my fail-safes to keep myself…unfruitful.” I said. “And if you want to know the _when_ I’m pretty sure it was the day of the picnic.” 

*** 

_“I still can’t believe you can ride a camel better than a horse.” Cullen laughed as I finished telling him why I preferred walking to riding, and riding with him to riding alone. He’d been particularly amused by my stories of our creatures, similar to horses but with humps on their backs. “It seems like it would be more difficult, to manoeuvre the lumps.”_

_”You might think that, but you’ve never seen a camel. It’s actually not bad.”_

_“Maybe someday I will.” He said, squeezing his arms around me as we sank into the trees at the base of the walkway to the keep. I still had not told Cullen of where we were going and he was doing his best to relax, but I could tell I was making him antsy. He did not like being in the dark._

_We eventually broke through the tree line into a small clearing, just out of view of Skyhold’s walls, though we could see its tallest tower in the distance, just over the tops of the evergreens. As we arrived in the clearing, Cullen let out a small laugh._

_“Reina, did you arrange this?” He said, indicating the small picnic; blankets splayed across the grass, a couple baskets of food, a bottle of wine and a few of ale. I knew Cullen did not like wine, so I’d made sure to have something he did like on hand. He dismounted the horse, helping me down._

_“No? Strange, this isn’t supposed to be here.” I said with a smile. He sighed heavily as me, then his mouth met mine as my feet reached the ground._

_“You’ve been spending too much time with Varric.” He growled. I giggled, beaming at him, then twirled away, leading him to the picnic._

_“I cleared your schedule with the Inquisitor so we won’t be bothered for the rest of the afternoon.”_

_Cullen laughed, shaking his head. “You are putting me to shame. I should be the one treating you like a queen, taking you on small excursions—”_

_I stopped him with a kiss, halting his babbling. “No no, I’m allowed to spoil you as much as you spoil me. Besides, I’m not the one busy commanding the Inquisition’s forces. It’s about time you got a break, even just for the afternoon.” I giggled, kissing him, just a quick peck, on his nose, having to go up on my tip toes to do so. Then I took his hand again and drew him down onto the blankets, the horse already bowing its head to the sweet grass of the clearing._

_We sat and I set about taking out the food that I had had prepared. It was simple fare for the most part, but I had pulled a few favours to get a few slices of fresh fruits. It made the meal a little bit fancier. Sitting and eating, we chatted. Cullen was eyeing me with intrigue, but I ignored it, guiding the conversation until he finally interrupted me._

_“Alright, what is the occasion?” he said. He was half-reclined, one arm resting on his propped up knee. My mouth was full, and I chewed, staring at him with a bit of a smile, eyes wide and innocent._

_“Who says there’s an occasion?” I said, swallowing my morsel and casting him a sidelong glance. He placed a hand on my wrist and raised an eyebrow at me._

_“Remember when we agreed to be honest with each other?” He chided. I stuck my tongue out at him._

_“Fine. Goddess, but you are impatient.” I took a sip of wine and handed him one of the bottles of ale. He took it, still watching me with an impatient look._

_“I know that you asked Derek about our marriage customs.” This made him splutter and he wiped the ale from his chin._

_“Last time I trust him with anything…” He muttered, shaking his head, and reddening slightly, though from anger or embarrassment I did not know. I reached to him and gave his leg a squeeze._

_“Well, he told you that normally it is the woman who proposes, yes?” He nodded slowly. “Right, so in Vermahna, normally, the bride to be would make the proposal after a series of days, having presented her beloved with gifts on each of the days. Then on the final day he would accept or decline her.” I smiled over the edge of my wine glass. “I don’t have much to give…but I did make a special effort to get some delightful treats for us.” I gestured to the meal. “And I would draw out the gift-giving ceremonies over a few days but I also don’t want to have to stop in the middle if you get whisked off to war.” I ignored the fear this drew from me, instead setting aside my drink and reaching for his bottle, setting it aside as well. I took both his hands in mine and sat back on my haunches, drawing him to me._

_“Is this…are you proposing to me?” He asked, voice incredulous._

_“Cullen Rutherford. Will you marry me?”_

_He paused only a moment before bringing his mouth to mine in a crashing kiss, dropping my hands and slipping his around my waist, pulling me tight against him. My arms slipped up over his shoulders and I smiled against his lips. I pulled back._

_“I take it that’s a yes?” I breathed against his lips, our foreheads pressed to one another. He laughed._

_“Of course it’s a yes!” He took up the kiss again, pushing against me gently so that I began to recline on the blanket. I spread out underneath him and he hovered over me, propped up on his forearms, his broad shoulders blocking out the sun above. “No one knows where we are, do they?” He asked, watching me intently, pulse thrumming in his throat._

_I figured I knew where he was going with this and I shook my head, a mischievous look in my eyes._

__”Good. _” He bent his head back over mine, a significant increase in the passion of his kiss. He rested himself on me just enough, supporting most of his weight with his legs and arms while I wrapped mine around him, arching my hips up to him hungrily._

_He lifted his hips slightly, reaching below us to grab at my dress, pulling it up around my hips so he could caress the skin of my thighs. Despite the ferocity of the kiss, he was gentle with his touch on my skin. I was not yet fully recovered from the injuries I had received weeks before. In fact, this was the first time I was making love to someone since…that time. I was glad it was Cullen. Really Cullen._

_This thought seemed to reach him at the same time, and he dropped his hand and pulled his face away from the delicate kisses he’d been planting along my own thrumming pulse. Concern was heavy in his eyes._

_“Is this…alright? If you don’t want this right now—”_

_I shook my head, smiling into his eyes. “I want this, Cullen. With you, now and forever.” I brought my mouth to his and he lowered his head to mine again, returning to the gentle caressing of my thigh and bottom. I dropped my hands from his shoulders to his breeches, tugging at the strings holding them closed._

_The urgency of our kissing increased, and I fumbled more fervidly with his pants. He drew my hands away and I growled at him, until I realised he was guiding me to my own dress, indicating I should be undoing my own strings. I tugged violently at the laces of my dress, then at the strings below that, until my dress was undone, pooling at my sides, exposing me to his eyes and the cool forest air._

_He lowered his head to my neck, another hand making its way to my breast, caressing and stroking me, teasing my nipple into a hard ball. Soon he replaced his hand with his mouth and I sighed in pleasure, feeling his tongue flicking over the raised nub, his teeth gently grazing the soft skin around. His other hand continued its work on my other breast, before he drew his mouth across my chest, peppering the valley between my breasts with feathered kisses, to the next nipple. His hand traced the length of my side, from just beside my breast, down my hip, to my thigh, over my leg and to the warmth between my legs. He pressed his thumb to the intense bundle of nerves there, and I urged my hips towards him. His mouth eventually made a lazy trip down my stomach and hips to meet his fingers which were gently teasing my warm folds. He removed his hand, replacing it almost immediately with his mouth, his tongue flicking over the swollen bud there and tracing down to the quickly dampening folds below. He hummed on his way back up, and my hips arched up to him. He smiled and laughed against me, the vibrations just helping drive me closer and closer to orgasm. His hands gripped my hips and he pulled me against my mouth, as if he could not get enough of me._

_He continued his teasing, flicking and sucking and humming against me until I could not take it any longer. I thrust my hips upward, my back arching into a bow, my head thrown back against the soft blankets as I moaned out three words; “_ Yes! Cullen, yes! _”_

_He pulled away as my body relaxed back into the blankets, fire coursing through my blood, eyes drooping and breath heaving. I opened my eyes enough to see him, wipe a hand across his chin, grinning at me._

_“I could listen to you make those noises forever.” He murmured. Then he undid his pants, sliding them down as I watched his member emerge. I watched him hungrily, eyes opening wider as he pressed himself against me, lowering himself over me, still not sheathing himself._

_“I love you, Cullen Rutherford.” I said._

_“Nevermind; I could hear you say_ that _forever.” He said, a heartbeat before entering me._

*** 

Cullen’s eyes sparkled with tears at my news, but he laughed at this. “Oh, I remember.” He shook his head, then pulled me close, tight. “Maker, a child! My child. _Our_ child…” He released me. “What will it look like?” 

“Uh…a baby?” I asked, shrugging. 

“But will it have purple hair?” 

I laughed. “I’ve no idea. My people have never had children with others than the Vermahnese. Might be half purple, half gold.” I ran my hands through his hair. “I hope it’s gold.” 

“I hope it’s not.” Cullen laughed. “I hope it’s a girl and she looks just like you.” He kissed me on the nose. 

“Then you’ll have two ladies to worry about.” I teased, kissing him softly, my heart full to bursting. 

“Worry?” He shook his head. “Why would I need to worry?” There was something about the way he said it that had me raising an eyebrow at him, as if he’d lost his mind. 

“Because any child of mine will be next in line for the Vermahnese throne. Which means Chiral will be trying even harder to find me. I’m honestly surprised he has sent no one else to try to kill me, after what happened to Amran…” I trailed off, shaking the darkness from my head. “But it’s a time to celebrate! We are having a baby and he or she will grow up here. Or, not _here_ here, but wherever we go to live.” I smiled. “What is your news?” 

He was shaking his head, smiling at me with knowing eyes, crinkled at the corners. 

“I wish I’d gotten word sooner…it would have been the best wedding gift…” He shook his head. 

“What? Cullen, what are you talking about?” He was piquing my interest now. 

“Chiral is dead, Reina.” 

My mouth dropped open in a slight gasp, forming an ‘o’ of surprise. I blinked, my mind trying to process the information. _Chiral…dead_. I swallowed thickly, my mouth gone dry. It was too much to hope…I shook my head in disbelief. 

“It can’t be. How?” 

Cullen led me to his desk, settling me on the chair and crouching at my side, my hands in his. 

“After we retrieved you from Amran, I spoke at length with Leliana and Derek on how to stop Chiral. It was mostly for selfish reasons; I did not want to lose you again.” He admitted, cheeks darkening just a shade. “We sent some of Leliana’s agents to Vermahna, brimming with intel from Derek, possible contacts…the past ten years did not win Chiral any love among the people. Rebellion needed only a spark…” 

“What happened?” I breathed. 

“Well, Leliana’s people spoke with key Vermahnese, those selected by Derek to be trustworthy. This past few months have been a flurry of messages between Vermahna and Skyhold, until eventually, everything was in place. The day we launched our attack on Corypheus, Leliana’s agents infiltrated Chiral’s court and assassinated him.” He sighed. “Normally, I don’t condone assassination. There is no honour in dying by a stranger’s hand. But there is also no honour in hunting down a woman for thirteen years. Or sending your son to harm her.” He stood. “Once Chiral was dead, Derek’s selected people established a Council again. It’s still a bit chaotic but the people will have a say in who they are governed by again. And Chiral is dead. Many of his closest advisors have either fled, were imprisoned in the coup, or killed by the people.” 

“That’s why Derek has been so busy.” I said, shaking my head. “He was helping Leliana.” I could not imagine how difficult it was, orchestrating a coup from so many leagues away. But he’d done it. _They’d_ done it. “I need to…thank Leliana.” The implications of what this meant sprang to my eyes. “My people are free. Goddess, Vermahna is free!” I laughed freely at this, mirth and light filling my heart. 

“Derek is still working out some of the details. He figured that you would not want to be involved.” I shook my head. 

“I would not know where to begin. I was thirteen when we left. Derek was the best choice.” I paused. “What does that mean for me? Our child?” I placed hands on my belly.

“Well, there are many, according to the missives Derek has received, who wish for you to come back. Your mother and father both left legacies, and while it appears that there is a small group of people who believe that the monarchy should be reinstated, it is not a popular opinion. But your education and training as a Cort’esa, one of the few left alive trained by Seraphina, means that a great many are calling for your return, to train the next generation of Cort’esa. Even to sit as High Cort’esa on the Council.” 

I could hear different emotions in his voice; pride and fear. I reached for his hand. 

“Vermahna is not my home anymore.” I said softly, hesitatingly. “I won’t lie; I yearn to return, to see my home in peace again, to be _able_ to return but…” I shook my head, looking past him, eyes distant, “I will not go back permanently. I have more reason to be here.” He kissed my hands. 

“Derek said you’d say as much. However, he did offer a solution. He suggested that Shizelle might be trained by you and sent as a replacement. And that, as a sort of test, some Cort’esa who make it to their higher training make a sort of pilgrimage. To you.” 

“That sounds…daunting.” I admitted. 

“It won’t be for many years, if it does happen.” Cullen nodded, standing from my side. “And you can always change your mind or come up with something else. Or say no, entirely.” He shrugged. “You are free to make that decision.” 

“I’m free to decide…” I said, letting the words sink in. I stood, hands still in his. “I’m _free_ , Cullen. Because of you.” He shook his head, but I laid a finger on his lips. “I know you’re the one who fought for this. Derek might have fought for it to, but you did it for me. You were the one to fight to get me back from Amran. You are the one who probably convinced the Inquisitor and Leliana to spare agents to go to Vermahna.” He gave a lopsided smile, not denying my words. 

“I…it would be pointless to say it wasn’t me, wouldn’t it?” 

“You’re too predictable.” I teased. Then I brought my mouth to his, arching on my tip-toes. “You saved me, Cullen.” 

“I hope I never need to again.” He breathed against my lips. I smiled. 

“I will try not to stress you out too much. However, who knows what this child might bring…if it’s anything like you, or me…” 

“Oh, Maker.” Cullen pressed his forehead against mine, fake misery in his voice. “We are going to be in so much trouble if it’s a child anything like me.” 

“I haven’t even told you the worst of the stories from my childhood…you remembered how I tried to fly? That is…rather tame.” This made him wince. 

We kissed again, warmly, a shared joy between us, the seed of our love blossoming within both of us, and to a greater extent, me, into something, something only the future would reveal. 

We finally had peace. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so much, those who have read through this from the beginning, offering compliments and comments and connection to my characters!  
> I may follow-up with a sequel, or 'Cort'esa' from Cullen's perspective...or both.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's notes:  
> *Cort'esans are somewhat inspired by geishas; masters of entertainment and dance and more physical pleasures. Of course, I added my own twists.  
> *In my head!canon, Vermahna was settled by Orlesians a long, long time ago. This is why their culture is similar to Orlais with their courts. However, they are like the Chantry in that, usually, they are a very matriarchal society. Women tend to hold the more important positions of power.  
> *Vermahna itself is inspired by ancient Egypt.  
> *I try to be as authentic to canon characters as possible, using inspiration from research and the games. This is also why my Inquisitor is never said to be male, female, dwarf, elf, human or qunari. I picture Reina and Derek etc. to be characters who can exist in anyone else's canon. (within reason.)  
> *Art and images of the characters can be found at https://www.deviantart.com/deekaypea  
> *Comments, critique and suggestions are ALWAYS appreciated <3


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